LIBRARY 

University  of  C.W-* 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN 


BY.-i 
FRANK  R.  STOCKTON. 

AUTHOR  OF  "RUDDER  GRANGE,"  "THE  LADY,  OR 
THETIGER?"  ••  THE  LATE  MRS.  NULL,"  "  THE  CASTING 
AWAY  OF  MRS.  LECKS  AND  MRS.  ALESHINE,"  "  THE 
MERRY  CHANTER,"  "  THE  HUNDREDTH  MAN,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 
1901 


COPYRIGHT,  1891, 
BY  FRANK.  R.  STOCKTON. 


All  rights  reserved. 


THE  De  VINNE  PBEW. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I  THE  STEAMBOAT  PIER  1 

II  THE  BABY,  THE  MAN,  AND  THE  MASTERY  7 

III  MATTHEW  VASSAR  16 

IV  LODLOE  UNDERTAKES  TO  NOMINATE  HIS  SUC 

CESSOR  25 

V  THE  LANDLORD  AND  HIS  INN  32 

VI  THE  GREEK  SCHOLAR  40 

VII  ROCKMORES  AHEAD  47 

VIII  Miss  MAYBERRY  56 

IX  THE  PRESERVATION  OF  LITERATURE  61 

X  ROSE  VERSUS  MAYBERRY  68 

XI  LANIGAN  BEAM  78 

XII  LANIGAN  CHANGES  HIS  CRAVAT  90 

XIII  DECREES  OP  EXILE  96 

XIV  BACKING  OUT  101 

XV  THE  BABY  is  PASSED  AROUND  110 

XVI  MESSRS.  BEAM  AND  LODLOE  DECLINE  TO  WAIT 

FOR  THE  SECOND  TABLE  119 

XVII  BANANAS  AND  OATS  132 

XVIII  SWEET  PEAS  138 


vi  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

XIX  THE  AROUSED  ROSE  149 

XX  AN  INGENUOUS  MAID  157 

XXI  TWISTED  TRYSTS  163 

XXII  THE  BLOSSOM  AND  THE  LITTLE  JAR  175 

XXIII  HAMMERSTEIN  181 

XXIV  TRANSLATIONS  197 

XXV  MR.  TIPPENGRAY  MOUNTS  HIGH  204 

XXVI  ANOTHER  SQUIRREL  IN  THE  TAP-ROOM  213 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

THE  SQUIRREL  INN  FRONTISPIECE 

ON  DECK  11 

A  WAGON-LOAD  OF  NURSE-MAIDS  28 

STEPHEN  FETTER  33 

THE  SIGN  38 

A  GREEK  IN  AN  OUTHOUSE  42 

MR.  TIPPENGRAY  44 

"I  SUPPOSE  THIS  is  MRS.  CRISTIE"  49 

LODLOE  is  INTRODUCED  TO  STEPHEN  FETTER  53 

"PASSING  NEARER,  MR.  TIPPENGRAY  STOPPED"  65 

"TEACH  THE  OLD  HENS  GOOD  MANNERS"  76 

"DON'T  GET  EXCITED"  80 

"HAVE  YOU  HAPPENED  TO  HEAR  ANYBODY  SPEAK 

OF  ME?"  83 

"  I  AM  HERE  FOR  A  PURPOSE  "  92 

IDA  MAKES  HERSELF  COMFORTABLE  102 

"  BACK  ! "  108 

"HE  BEGAN  SLOWLY  TO  PUSH  IT  TOWARDS  THE 

SQUIRREL  INN"  112 

"I  WILL  WHEEL  IT  DOWN  TO  MY  SUMMER-HOUSE 

WHERE   IT   IS   COOL   AND    SHADY"  113 

vii 


viii  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

"HE  LEANED  OVER  THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  CAR 
RIAGE  "  118 

"CALTHT,  THIS  is  TRULY  LIKE  OLD  TIMES"  129 

"  WILL  YOU  NOT  TAKE  THESE  INSTEAD  ?  "  143 

"I  HAVE  DISSECTED  ONE"  147 

MRS.  CRISTIE  CONSIDERS  153 

A  MATRIMONIAL  CONVERSATION  160 

CALTHEA  HOLDS  HIM  WITH  HER  LISTENING  EAR  165 

THE  BABY  AND  THE  SWEET-PEA  BLOSSOM    •  179 

Miss  CALTHEA  STEPS  OUT  187 

"WHAT  SKEERED  HIM?"  191 

MR.  TIPPENGRAY  STOPPED  AND  LISTENED  192 

THE  TRANSLATION  198 

THE  PROPOSAL  206 

MR.  FETTER  TAKES  OFF  HIS  HAT  209 

LANIGAN  BEAM  WANTS  HIS  LADDER  210 


THE   SQUIRREL   INN 


THE    SQUIRREL    INN 


THE   STEAMBOAT   PIER 

steamboat  Manasquan  was  adver 
tised  to  leave  her  pier  on  the  east 
side  of  the  city  at  half -past  nine 
on  a  July  morning.  At  nine 
o'clock  Walter  Lodloe  was  on 
the  forward  upper  deck,  watch 
ing  the  early  passengers  come  on  board,  and  occasion 
ally  smiling  as  his  glance  fell  upon  a  tall  man  in  a 
blue  flannel  shirt,  who,  with  a  number  of  other  deck 
hands,  was  hard  at  work  transferring  from  the  pier 
to  the  steamer  the  boxes,  barrels,  and  bales  of  mer 
chandise  the  discouraging  mass  of  which  was  on  the 
point  of  being  increased  by  the  unloading  of  a  newly 
arrived  two-horse  truck. 

Lodloe  had  good  reason  to  allow  himself  his  smiles 
of  satisfaction,  for  he  had  just  achieved  a  victory 
over  the  man  in  the  blue  shirt,  and  a  victory  over  a 


2  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

busy  deck-hand  on  a  hot  day  is  rare  enough  to  be 
valuable.  As  soon  as  he  had  stepped  on  board,  he 
had  deposited  his  hand-baggage  in  a  place  of  safety, 
and  walked  forward  to  see  the  men  run  on  the  freight. 
It  was  a  lively  scene,  and  being  a  student  of  incident, 
character,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  it  greatly  inter 
ested  him.  Standing  by  a  strangely  marked  cask 
which  had  excited  his  curiosity,  he  found  himself  in 
the  way  of  the  deck-hand  in  the  blue  shirt,  who,  with 
red  face  and  sparkling  forehead,  had  just  wheeled 
two  heavy  boxes  up  the  incline  of  the  gang-plank, 
and  was  about  to  roll  them  with  easy  rapidity  to  the 
other  side  of  the  deck;  but  Lodloe,  with  his  back 
turned  and  directly  in  front  of  him,  made  it  neces 
sary  for  him  to  make  a  violent  swerve  to  the  right 
or  to  break  the  legs  of  a  passenger.  He  made  the 
swerve,  missed  Lodloe,  and  then,  dumping  his  load, 
turned  and  swore  at  the  young  man  with  the  prompt 
ness  and  accuracy  of  a  cow-boy's  revolver. 

It  was  quite  natural  that  a  high-spirited  young  fel 
low  should  object  to  be  sworn  at,  no  matter  what 
provocation  he  had  given,  and  Lodloe  not  only  ob 
jected  but  grew  very  angry.  The  thing  which  instantly 
suggested  itself  to  him,  and  which  to  most  people 
would  seem  the  proper  thing  to  do,  was  to  knock 
down  the  man.  But  this  knocking-down  business  is 
a  matter  which  should  be  approached  with  great 
caution.  Walter  was  a  strong  young  fellow  and  had 
had  some  practice  in  boxing,  but  it  was  not  impossi 
ble  that,  even  with  the  backing  of  justifiable  indigna 
tion,  the  conventional  blow  straight  from  the  shoulder 
might  have  failed  to  fell  the  tall  deck-hand. 


THE  SQUIEEEL  INN.  3 

But  even  had  Lodloe  succeeded  in  stretching  the 
insulting  man  upon  the  dirty  deck,  it  is  not  at  all 
probable  that  he  would  have  staid  there.  In  five 
seconds  there  would  have  been  a  great  fight,  and  it 
would  not  have  been  long  before  the  young  gentle 
man  would  have  found  himself  in  the  custody  of  a 
policeman. 

Lodloe's  common  sense  was  capable  of  considerable 
tension  without  giving  way,  even  under  a  strain  like 
this,  and,  although  pale  with  anger,  he  would  not 
engage  in  a  personal  contest  with  a  deck-hand  on  a 
crowded  steamboat ;  but  to  bear  the  insult  was  almost 
impossible.  Never  before  had  he  been  subjected  to 
such  violent  abuse. 

But  in  a.  flash  he  remembered  something,  and  the 
man  had  scarcely  turned  his  empty  truck  to  go  back 
to  the  pier,  when  Lodloe  stepped  in  front  of  him,  and 
with  a  wave  of  the  hand  stopped  him. 

Two  nights  before  Lodloe  had  been  sitting  up  late 
reading  some  papers  on  modern  Italian  history,  and 
in  the  course  of  said  reading  had  met  with  the  text 
of  the  anathema  maranatha  pronounced  by  Pius  IX. 
against  disbelievers  in  his  infallibility.  The  direct 
ness,  force,  and  comprehensiveness  of  the  expressions 
used  in  this  composition  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
Lodloe,  and  as  it  was  not  very  long  he  had  committed 
it  to  memory,  thinking  that  he  might  some  time  care 
to  use  it  in  quotation.  Now  it  flashed  upoti  him  that 
the  time  had  come  to  quote  this  anathema  maranatka, 
and  without  hesitation  he  delivered  the  whole  of  it, 
fair  and  square,  straight  into  the  face  of  the  petrified 
deck-hand. 


4  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

Petrified  immediately  he  was  not.  As  first  he  flushed 
furiously,  but  after  a  few  phrases  he  began  to  pale 
and  to  turn  to  living  stone ;  enough  mobility,  how 
ever,  remained  to  allow  him  presently  to  raise  his 
hand  imploringly,  but  Lodloe  had  now  nearly  finished 
his  discourse,  and  with  a  few  words  more  he  turned 
and  walked  away.  The  deck-hand  wiped  his  brow,  took 
in  a  long  breath,  and  went  to  work.  If  another  pas 
senger  had  got  in  his  way,  he  would  not  have  sworn 
at  him. 

Therefore  it  was  that,  gently  pleased  by  the  sensa 
tions  of  victory,  Walter  Lodloe  sat  on  the  upper  deck 
and  watched  the  busy  scene.  He  soon  noted  that 
passengers  were  beginning  to  come  down  the  pier  in 
considerable  numbers,  and  among  these  his  eye  was 
caught  by  a  young  woman  wheeling  a  baby-carriage. 

When  this  little  equipage  had  been  pushed  down 
nearly  to  the  end  of  that  side  of  the  pier  from  which 
the  passengers  were  going  on  board,  it  stopped,  and 
its  motive  power  looked  behind  her.  Presently  she 
turned  her  head  towards  the  steamer  and  eagerly 
scanned  every  part  of  it  on  which  she  could  see 
human  beings.  In  doing  this  she  exhibited  to  Lod 
loe  a  very  attractive  face.  It  was  young  enough,  it 
was  round  enough,  and  the  brown  eyes  were  large 
enough,  to  suit  almost  any  one  whose  taste  was  not 
restricted  to  the  lines  of  the  old  sculptors. 

When  she  completed  her  survey  of  the  steamboat, 
the  young  woman  turned  the  carriage  around  and 
wheeled  it  up  the  pier.  Very  soon,  however,  she  re 
turned,  walking  rapidly,  and  ran  the  little  vehicle 
over  the  broad  gang-plank  on  to  the  steamboat.  Now 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  5 

Lodloe  lost  sight  of  her,  but  in  about  five  minutes 
she  appeared  on  the  forward  upper  deck  without  the 
baby-carriage,  and  looking  eagerly  here  and  there. 
Not  finding  what  she  sought,  she  hastily  descended. 

The  next  act  in  this  performance  was  the  appear 
ance  of  the  baby-carriage,  borne  by  the  blue-shirted 
deck-hand,  and  followed  by  the  young  woman  carry 
ing  the  baby.  The  carriage  was  humbly  set  down  by 
its  bearer,  who  departed  without  looking  to  the  right 
or  left,  and  the  baby  was  quickly  deposited  in  it. 
Then  the  young  woman  stepped  to  the  rail  and  looked 
anxiously  upon  the  pier.  As  Lodloe  gazed  upon  her 
it  was  easy  to  see  that  she  was  greatly  troubled. 
She  was  expecting  some  one  who  did  not  come.  Now 
she  went  to  the  head  of  the  stairway  and  went  down 
a  few  steps,  then  she  came  up  again  and  stood  un 
decided.  Her  eyes  now  fell  upon  Lodloe,  who  was 
looking  at  her,  and  she  immediately  approached  him. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  sir,"  she  said,  "  exactly  how  long 
it  will  be  before  this  boat  starts  ?  " 

Lodloe  drew  out  his  watch. 

"  In  eight  minutes,"  he  answered. 

If  Lodloe  had  allowed  himself  to  suppose  that 
because  the  young  woman  who  addressed  him  was  in 
sole  charge  of  a  baby-carriage  she  was  a  nurse  or 
superior  maid-servant,  that  notion  would  have  in 
stantly  vanished  when  he  heard  her  speak. 

The  lady  turned  a  quick  glance  towards  the  pier, 
and  then  moved  to  the  head  of  the  stairway,  but 
stopped  before  reaching  it.  It  was  plain  that  she  was 
in  much  perplexity.  Lodloe  stepped  quickly  towards 
her. 


6  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

"  Madam,"  said  he,  "  you  are  looking  for  some  one. 
Can  I  help  you?" 

"I  am,"  she  said;  "I  am  looking  for  my  nurse 
maid.  She  promised  to  meet  me  on  the  pier.  I  can 
not  imagine  what  has  become  of  her." 

"  Let  me  go  and  find  her,"  said  Lodloe.  "  "What 
sort  of  person  is  she  ? " 

"  She  is  n't  any  sort  of  person  in  particular,"  an 
swered  the  lady.  "  I  could  n't  describe  her.  I  will  run 
down  and  look  for  her  myself,  and  if  you  will  kindly 
see  that  nobody  knocks  over  my  baby  I  shall  be  much 
obliged  to  you." 

Lodloe  instantly  undertook  the  charge,  and  the  lady 
disappeared  below. 


II 

THE  BABY,  THE  MAN,  AND  THE  MASTERY 

HE  young  man  drew  the  baby-car 
riage  to  the  bench  by  the  rail  and, 
seating  himself,  gazed  with  interest 
upon  its  youthful  occupant.  This 
individual  appeared  to  be  about  two 
years  of  age,  with  its  mother's  eyes 
and  a  combative  disposition.  The  latter  was  indi 
cated  by  the  manner  in  which  it  banged  its  own  legs 
and  the  sides  of  its  carriage  with  a  wicker  bludgeon 
that  had  once  been  a  rattle.  It  looked  earnestly  at 
the  young  man,  and  gave  the  edges  of  its  carriage  a 
whack  which  knocked  the  bludgeon  out  of  its  hand. 
Lodloe  picked  up  the  weapon,  and,  restoring  it  to  its 
owner,  began  to  commune  with  himself. 

"It  is  the  same  old  story,"  he  thought.  "The 
mother  desires  to  be  rid  of  the  infant ;  she  leaves  it  for 
a  moment  in  the  charge  of  a  stranger;  she  is  never 
seen  again.  However,  I  accept  the  situation.  If  she 
does  n't  come  back  this  baby  is  mine.  It  seems  like 
a  good  sort  of  baby,  and  I  think  I  shall  like  it.  Yes, 
youngster,  if  your  mother  does  n't  come  back  you  are 
mine.  I  shall  not  pass  you  over  to  the  police  or  to 
any  one  else ;  I  shall  run  you  myself." 

2  7 


8  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

.* 

It  was  now  half-past  nine.  Lodloe  arose  and 
looked  out  over  the  pier.  He  could  see  nothing  of 
the  young  mother.  The  freight  was  all  on  board, 
and  they  were  hauling  up  the  forward  gang-plank. 
One  or  two  belated  passengers  were  hurrying  along 
the  pier  j  the  bell  was  ringing  j  now  the  passengers 
were  on  board,  the  aft  gang-plank  was  hauled  in,  the 
hawsers  were  cast  off  from  the  posts,  the  pilot's  bell 
jingled,  the  wheels  began  to  revolve,  and  the  great 
steamboat  slowly  moved  from  its  pier. 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  Lodloe,  unconsciously  speaking 
aloud ;  "  she  had  n't  the  slightest  idea  of  coming 
back.  Now,  then,"  said  he,  "I  own  a  baby,  and  I 
must  consider  what  I  am  to  do  with  it.  One  thing  is 
certain,  I  intend  to  keep  it.  I  believe  I  can  get  more 
solid  comfort  and  fun  out  of  a  baby  than  I  could 
possibly  get  out  of  a  dog  or  even  a  horse." 

Walter  Lodloe  was  a  young  man  who  had  adopted 
literature  as  a  profession.  Earlier  in  life  he  had 
worked  at  journalism,  but  for  the  last  two  years  he 
had  devoted  himself  almost  entirely  to  literature  pure 
and  simple.  His  rewards,  so  far,  had  been  slight,  but 
he  was  not  in  the  least  discouraged,  and  hoped  bravely 
for  better  things.  He  was  now  on  his  way  to  'spend 
some  months  at  a  quiet  country  place  of  which 
he  had  heard,  not  for  a  summer  holiday,  but  to  work 
where  he  could  live  cheaply  and  enjoy  outdoor  life. 
His  profession  made  him  more  independent  than  an 
artist — all  he  needed  were  writing  materials,  and  a 
post-office  within  a  reasonable  distance. 

Lodloe  gazed  with  much  satisfaction  at  his  new 
acquisition.  He  was  no  stickler  for  conventionalities, 


THE  SQUIREEL  INN.  9 

aiid  did  not  in  the  least  object  to  appear  at  his  desti 
nation —  where  he  knew  no  one  —  with  a  baby  and  a 
carriage. 

"  1 11  get  some  country  girl  to  take  care  of  it  when 
I  am  busy,"  he  said,  "and  the  rest  of  the  time  I  '11 
attend  to  it  myself.  I  '11  teach  it  a  lot  of  things, 
and  from  what  I  have  seen  of  youngster-culture  I 
should  n't  wonder  if  I  should  beat  the  record." 

At  this  moment  the  baby  gave  a  great  wave  with 
its  empty  rattle,  and,  losing  its  hold  upon  it,  the 
wicker  weapon  went  overboard.  Then,  after  feeling 
about  in  its  lap,  and  peering  over  the  side  of  the 
carriage,  the  baby  began  to  whimper. 

"Now  then,"  thought  the  young  man,  "here  's  my 
chance.  I  must  begin  instantly  to  teach  it  that  I  am 
its  master." 

Leaning  forward,  he  looked  sternly  into  the  child's 
face,  and  in  a  sharp,  quick  tone  said : 

"  Whoa ! " 

The  baby  stopped  instantly,  and  stared  at  its  new 
guardian. 

"  There,"  thought  Lodloe,  "  it  is  just  the  same  with 
a  baby  as  with  a  horse.  Be  firm,  be  decided ;  it  knows 
what  you  want,  and  it  will  do  it." 

At  this  instant  the  baby  opened  its  mouth,  uttered 
a  wild  wail,  and  continued  wailing. 

Lodloe  laughed.  "  That  did  n't  seem  to  work," 
said  he ;  and  to  quiet  the  little  creature  he  agitated 
the  vehicle,  shook  before  the  child  his  keys,  and 
showed  it  his  watch,  but  the  wails  went  on  with  per 
sistent  violence.  The  baby's  face  became  red,  its  eyes 
dropped  tears.  * 


10  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

The  young  man  looked  around  him  for  assistance. 
The  forward  upper  deck  was  without  an  awning,  and 
was  occupied  only  by  a  few  men,  the  majority  of  the 
passengers  preferring  the  spacious  and  shaded  after 
deck.  Two  of  the  men  were  laughing  at  Lodloe. 

"  That 's  a  new  way,"  one  of  them  called  out  to  him, 
"  to  shut  up  a  young  one.  Did  it  ever  work  ?  " 

"It  didn't  this  time,"  answered  Lodloe.  "Have 
you  any  young  ones  ?  " 

"  Five,"  answered  the  man. 

"  And  how  do  you  stop  them  when  they  howl  like 
that?" 

"  I  leave  that  to  the  old  woman,"  was  the  answer, 
"  and  when  she  's  heard  enough  of  it  she  spanks 
'em.» 

Lodloe  shook  his  head.  That  method  did  not  suit 
him. 

"  If  you  'd  run  its  wagon  round  the  deck,"  said 
another  man,  "  perhaps  that  would  stop  it.  I  guess 
you  was  never  left  alone  with  it  before." 

Lodloe  made  no  reply  to  this  supposition,  but  began 
to  wheel  the  carriage  around  the  deck.  Still  the  baby 
yelled  and  kicked.  An  elderly  gentleman  who  had 
been  reading  a  book  went  below. 

"If  you  "could  feed  it,"  said  one  of  the  men  who 
had  spoken  before,  "  that  might  stop  it,  but  the  best 
thing  you  can  do  is  to  take  it  down  to  its  mother." 

Lodloe  was  annoyed.  He  had  not  yet  arranged  in 
his  mind  how  he  should  account  for  his  possession  of 
the  baby,  and- he  did  not  want  an  explanation  forced 
upon  him  before  he  was  ready  to  make  it.  These 
men  had  come  on  board  after  the  departure  of  the 


12  THE  SQUIEEEL  INN. 

young  woman,  and  could  know  nothing  of  the  facts, 
and  therefore  Lodloe,  speaking  from  a  high,  figura 
tive  standpoint,  settled  the  matter  by  shaking  his 
head  and  saying : 

"  That  can't  be  done.  The  little  thing  has  lost  its 
mother." 

The  man  who  had  last  spoken  looked  compassion 
ately  at  Lodloe. 

" That 's  a  hard  case,"  he  said ;  "I  know  all  about 
it,  for  I  've  been  in  that  boat  myself.  My  wife  died 
just  as  I  was  going  to  sail  for  this  country,  and  I  had 
to  bring  over  the  two  babies.  I  was  as  seasick  as 
blazes,  and  had  to  take  care  of  'em  night  and  day.  I 
tell  you,  sir,  you  've  got  a  hard  time  ahead  of  you ; 
but  feedin7  's  the  only  thing.  I  '11  get  you  something. 
Is  it  on  milk  yet,  or  can  it  eat  biscuit  ?  " 

Lodloe  looked  at  the  open  mouth  of  the  vociferous 
infant  and  saw  teeth. 

"Biscuit  will  do,"  he  said,  "or  perhaps  a  banana. 
If  you  can  get  me  something  of  the  sort  I  shall  be 
much  obliged";  and  he  gave  the  man  some  money. 

The  messenger  soon  returned  with  an  assortment 
of  refreshments,  among  which,  happily,  was  not  a 
banana,  and  the  baby  soon  stopped  wailing  to  suck  an 
enormous  stick  of  striped  candy.  Quiet  having  been 
restored  to  this  part  of  the  vessel,  Lodloe  sat  down 
to  reconsider  the  situation. 

"It  may  be,"  he  said  to  himself,  "that  I  shall  have 
to  take  it  to  an  asylum,  but  I  shall  let  it  stay  there 
only  during  the  period  of  unintelligent  howling.  When 
it  is  old  enough  to  understand  that  I  am  its  master, 
then  I  shall  take  it  in  hand  again.  It  is  ridiculous  to 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  13 

suppose  that  a  human  being  cannot  be  as  easily 
trained  as  a  horse." 

The  more  he  considered  the  situation  the  better  he 
liked  it.  The  possession  of  a  healthy  and  vigorous 
youngster  without  encumbrances  was  to  him  a  novel 
and  delightful  sensation. 

"I  hope,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  when  the  coun 
try  girl  dresses  it  she  will  find  no  label  on  its  clothes, 
nor  any  sign  which  might  enable  one  to  discover  the 
original  owners.  I  don't  want  anybody  coming  up  to 
claim  it  after  we  Ve  got  to  be  regular  chums." 

When  the  boat  made  its  first  landing  the  two  men 
who  had  given  advice  and  assistance  to  Lodloe  got  off, 
and  as  the  sun  rose  higher  the  forward  deck  became 
so  unpleasantly  warm  that  nearly  everybody  left  it ; 
but  Lodloe  concluded  to  remain.  The  little  carriage 
had  a  top,  which  sufficiently  shaded  the  baby,  and  as 
for  himself  he  was  used  to  the  sun.  If  he  went  among 
the  other  passengers  they  might  ask  him  questions, 
and  he  was  not  prepared  for  these.  What  he  wanted 
was  to  be  let  alone  until  he  reached  his  landing-place, 
and  then  he  would  run  his  baby-carriage  ashore,  and 
when  the  steamboat  had  passed  on  he  would  be  mas 
ter  of  the  situation,  and  could  assume  what  position 
he  chose  towards  his  new  possession. 

"  When  I  get  the  little  bouncer  to  Squirrel  Inn  I 
shall  be  all  right,  but  I  must  have  the  relationship 
defined  before  I  arrive  there."  And  to  the  planning 
and  determination  of  that  he  now  gave  his  mind. 

He  had  not  decided  whether  he  should  create  an 
imaginary  mother  who  had  died  young,  consider  him 
self  the  uncle  of  the  child,  whose  parents  had  been 


14  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

lost  at  sea,  or  adopt  the  little  creature  as  a  brother 
or  a  sister,  as  the  case  might  be,  when  the  subject 
of  his  reflections  laid  down  its  stick  of  candy  and 
began  a  violent  outcry  against  circumstances  in 
general. 

Lodloe's  first  impulse  was  to  throw  it  overboard. 
Repressing  this  natural  instinct,  he  endeavored  to 
quiet  the  infantile  turbulence  with  offers  of  biscuit, 
fresh  candy,  gingercakes,  and  apples,  but  without 
effect.  The  young  bewailer  would  have  nothing  to 
do  with  any  of  these  enticements. 

Lodloe  was  puzzled.  "I  have  got  to  keep  the  thing 
quiet  until  we  land,"  he  thought ;  "  then  I  will  imme 
diately  hire  some  one  to  go  with  me  and  take  charge 
of  it,  but  I  can't  stand  this  uproar  for  two  hours 
longer."  The  crying  attracted  the  attention  of  other 
people,  and  presently  a  country  woman  appeared 
from  below. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  it?"  she  asked.  "I 
thought  it  was  some  child  left  here  all  by  itself." 

"What  would  you  do  with  it?"  asked  Lodloe, 
helplessly. 

"  You  ought  to  take  it  up  and  walk  it  about  until 
its  mother  comes,"  said  the  woman ;  and  having  given 
this  advice  she  returned  below  to  quiet  one  of  her 
own  offspring  who  had  been  started  off  by  the  sounds 
of  woe. 

Lodloe  smiled  at  the  idea  of  carrying  the  baby 
about  until  its  mother  came ;  but  he  was  willing  to  do 
the  thing  in  moderation,  and  taking  up  the  child 
resolutely,  if  not  skilfully,  he  began  to  stride  up  and 
down  the  deck  with  it. 


THE  SQUIEEEL  INN.  15 

This  suited  the  youngster  perfectly,  and  it  ceased 
crying  and  began  to  look  about  with  great  interest. 
It  actually  smiled  into  the  young  man's  face,  and 
taking  hold  of  his  mustache  began  to  use  it  as  a  door 
bell. 

"This  is  capital/'  said  Lodloe;  "we  are  chums 
already."  And  as  he  strode  he  whistled,  talked  baby- 
talk,  and  snapped  his  fingers  in  the  face  of  the  ad 
miring  youngster,  who  slapped  at  him,  and  laughed, 
and  did  its  best  to  kick  off  the  bosom  of  his  shirt. 


m 


MATTHEW  VASSAB 


N  the  course  of  this  sociable  prome 
nade  the  steamboat  stopped  at  a 
small  town,  and  it  had  scarcely 
started  again  when  the  baby  gave  a 
squirm  which  nearly  threw  it  out  of 
its  bearer's  arms.  At  the  same  in 
stant  he  heard  quick  steps  behind  him,  and,  turning, 
he  beheld  the  mother  of  the  child.  At  the  sight  his 
heart  fell.  Gone  were  his  plans,  his  hopes,  his  little 
chum. 

The  young  woman  was  flushed  and  panting. 
"Upon  my  word!"  was  all  she  could  say  as  she 
clasped  the  child,  whose  little  arms  stretched  out 
towards  her.  She  seated  herself  upon  the  nearest 
bench.  In  a  few  moments  she  looked  from  her  baby 
to  Lodloe;  she  had  not  quite  recovered  her  breath, 
and  her  face  was  flushed,  but  in  her  eyes  and  on  her 
mouth  and  dimpled  cheeks  there  was  an  expression 
of  intense  delight  mingled  with  amusement. 

"Will  you  tell  me,  sir,"  she  said,  "how  long  you 
have  been  carrying  this  baby  about  ?  And  did  you 
have  to  take  care  of  it  ? " 

16 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  17 

Lodloe  did  not  feel  in  a  very  good  humor.  By 
not  imposing  upon  him,  as  he  thought  she  had  done, 
she  had  deceived  and  disappointed  him. 

"  Of  course  I  took  care  of  it,"  he  said,  "  as  you  left 
it  in  my  charge ;  and  it  gave  me  a  lot  of  trouble,  I 
assure  you.  For  a  time  it  kicked  up  a  dreadful  row. 
I  had  the  advice  of  professionals,  but  I  did  all  the 
work  myself." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said,  "  but  it  does  seem  ex 
tremely  funny  that  it  should  have  happened  so.  What 
did  you  think  had  become  of  me  ? " 

11 1  supposed  you  had  gone  off  to  whatever  place 
you  wanted  to  go  to,"  said  Lodloe. 

She  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that  you 
thought  I  wanted  to  get  rid  of  my  baby,  and  to  palm 
him  off  on  you  —  an  utter  stranger  1 " 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  thought,"  he  answered. 
"Of  course,  people  who  want  to  get  rid  of  babies 
don't  palm  them  off  on  friends  and  acquaintances.  I 
am  very  sorry  if  I  misjudged  you,  but  I  think  you 
will  admit  that,  under  the  circumstances,  my  suppo 
sition  was  a  very  natural  one." 

"Tell  me  one  more  thing,"  she  said;  "what  did 
you  intend  to  do  with  this  child!" 

"  I  intended  to  bring  it  up  as  my  own,"  said  Lodloe ; 
"  I  had  already  formed  plans  for  its  education." 

The  lady  looked  at  him  in  speechless  amazement. 
If  she  had  known  him  she  would  have  burst  out 
laughing. 

"  The  way  of  it  was  this,"  she  said  presently.  "  I  ran 
off  the  steamboat  to  look  for  my  nurse-maid,  and  if  I 


18  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

had  n't  thought  of  first  searching  through  the  other 
parts  of  the  boat  to  see  if  she  was  on  board  I  should 
have  had  plenty  of  time.  I  found  her  waiting  for  me 
at  the  entrance  of  the  pier,  and  when  I  ran  towards 
her  all  she  had  to  say  was  that  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  not  to  go  into  the  country.  I  was  so  excited, 
and  so  angry  at  her  for  playing  such  a  trick  on  me 
at  the  last  moment,  that  I  forgot  how  time  was  pass 
ing,  and  that  is  why  I  was  left  behind.  But  it  never 
entered  my  mind  that  any  one  would  think  that  I 
intended  to  desert  my  baby,  and  I  did  n't  feel  afraid 
either  that  he  would  n't  be  taken  care  of.  I  had  seen 
ever  so  many  women  on  board,  and  some  with  babies 
of  their  own,  and  I  did  not  doubt  that  some  of  these 
would  take  charge  of  him. 

"As  soon  as  I  saw  that  the  steamboat  had  gone, 
I  jumped  into  a  cab,  and  went  to  the  West  Bank 
Railroad,  and  took  the  first  train  for  Scurry,  where  I 
knew  the  steamboat  stopped.  The  ticket  agent  told 
me  he  thought  the  train  would  get  there  about  forty 
minutes  before  the  boat ;  but  it  did  n't,  and  I  had  to 
run  every  inch  of  the  way  from  the  station  to  the 
wharf,  and  then  barely  got  there  in  time." 

"  You  managed  matters  very  well,"  said  Lodloe. 

"  I  should  have  managed  better,"  said  she,  "  if  I 
had  taken  my  baby  ashore  with  me.  In  that  case,  I 
should  have  remained  in  the  city  until  I  secured 
another  maid.  But  why  did  you  trouble  yourself 
with  the  child,  especially  when  he  cried1?" 

"  Madam,"  said  Lodloe,  "  you  left  that  little  crea 
ture  in  my  charge,  and  it  never  entered  my  mind  to 
hand  it  over  to  anybody  else.  I  took  advice,  as  I  told 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  19 

you,  but  that  was  all  I  wanted  of  any  one  until  I 
went  ashore,  and  then  I  intended  to  hire  a  country 
girl  to  act  as  its  nurse." 

"  And  you  really  and  positively  intended  to  keep  it 
for  your  own  ? n  she  asked. 

"  I  did,"  he  answered. 

At  this  the  lady  could  riot  help  laughing.  "In  all 
my  life,"  she  said,  "  I  never  heard  of  anything  like 
that.  But  I  am  just  as  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  as 
if  I  were  acquainted  with  you;  in  fact,  more  so." 

Lodloe  took  out  his  card  and  handed  it  to  her. 
She  read  it,  and  then  said : 

"I  am  Mrs.  Robert  Cristie  of  Philadelphia.  And 
now  I  will  take  my  baby  to  the  other  end  of  the  boat, 
where  it  is  more  sheltered,  but  not  without  thanking 
you  most  heartily  for  your  very  great  kindness." 

"If  you  are  going  aft,"  said  Lodloe,  "let  me  help 
you.  If  you  will  take  the  baby,  I  will  bring  its 
carriage." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  mother  and  child  were  en 
sconced  in  a  shady  spot  on  the  lower  deck,  and  then 
Lodloe,  lifting  his  hat,  remarked : 

"  As  I  suppose  two  people  cannot  become  con 
ventionally  acquainted  without  the  intervention  of 
a  third  person,  no  matter  how  little  each  may  know 
of  said  third  party,  I  must  take  my  leave ;  but  allow 
me  to  say  that,  if  you  require  any  further  assistance, 
I  shall  be  most  happy  to  give  it.  I  shall  be  on  the 
boat  until  we  reach  Romney." 

"  That  is  where  I  get  off,"  she  said. 

"  Indeed,"  said  he ;  "  then  perhaps  you  will  engage 
the  country  girl  whom  I  intended  to  hire." 


20  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

"Do  you  know  any  one  living  there/'  she  asked, 
"  who  would  come  to  me  as  nurse-maid  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  a  soul  in  Ronmey,"  said  Lodloe ;  "  I 
never  was  in  the  place  in  my  life.  I  merely  supposed 
that  in  a  little  town  like  that  there  were  girls  to  be 
hired.  I  don't  intend  to  remain  in  Romney,  to  be 
sure,  but  I  thought  it  would  be  much  safer  to  engage 
a  girl  there  than  to  trust  to  getting  one  in  the  country 
place  to  which  I  am  going." 

"And  you  thought  out  all  that,  and  about  my 
baby  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  said  Lodloe,  laughing. 

"Very  well,"  said  she;  "I  shall  avail  myself  of 
your  forethought,  and  shall  try  to  get  a  girl  in  Rom 
ney.  "Where  do  you  go  when  you  leave  there  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  am  going  some  five  or  six  miles  from  the 
town,  to  a  place  called  the  '  Squirrel  Inn.' " 

"  The  Squirrel  Inn  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cristie,  drop 
ping  her  hands  into  her  lap  and  leaning  forward. 

"Yes,"  said  Lodloe ;  "  are  you  going  there  ?  " 

"  I  am,"  she  answered. 

Now  in  his  heart  Walter  Lodloe  blessed  his  guar 
dian  angel  that  she  had  prompted  him  to  make  the 
announcement  of  his  destination  before  he  knew 
where  this  lady  was  going. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that,"  he  said.  "  It  seems 
odd  that  we  should  happen  to  be  going  to  the  same 
place,  and  yet  it  is  not  so  very  odd,  after  all,  for  peo 
ple  going  to  the  Squirrel  Inn  must  take  this  boat  and 
land  at  Romney,  which  is  not  on  the  railroad." 

"  The  odd  part  of  it  is  that  so  few  people  go  to  the 
Squirrel  Inn,"  said  the  lady. 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  21 

"  I  did  not  know  that,"  remarked  Lodloe ;  "  in  fact 
I  know  very  little  about  the  place.  I  have  heard  it 
spoken  of,  and  it  seems  to  be  just  the  quiet,  restful 
place  in  which  I  can  work.  I  am  a  literary  man,  and 
like  to  work  in  the  country." 

"  Do  you  know  the  Rockmores  of  Germantown  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  I  never  heard  of  them,"  he  answered. 

"  Well,  then,  you  may  as  well  stay  on  board  this 
steamboat  and  go  back  home  in  her,"  said  Mrs.  Cris 
tie  ;  "  if  you  do  not  know  the  Rockmores  of  German- 
town  Stephen  Fetter  will  not  take  you  into  his  inn. 
I  know  all  about  the  place.  I  was  there  with  my 
husband  three  years  ago.  Mr.  Fetter  is  very  partic 
ular  about  the  guests  he  entertains.  Several  years 
ago,  when  he  opened  the  inn,  the  Rockmores  of  Ger 
mantown  spent  the  summer  with  him,  and  he  was  so 
impressed  with  them  that  he  will  not  take  anybody 
unless  they  know  the  Rockmores  of  Germantown." 

"  He  must  be  a  ridiculous  old  crank,"  said  Lodloe, 
drawing  a  camp-chair  near  to  the  lady,  and  seating 
himself  thereon. 

"In  one  way  he  is  not  a  crank,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie; 
"you  can't  turn  him.  When  he  has  made  up  his 
mind  about  anything,  that  matter  is  settled  and  fixed 
just  as  if  it  were  screwed  down  to  the  floor." 

"  From  what  I  had  been  told,"  said  the  young  man, 
"  I  supposed  the  Squirrel  Inn  to  be  a  free  and  easy 
place." 

"  It  is,  after  you  get  there,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  "  and 
the  situation  and  the  surroundings  are  beautiful,  and 
the  air  is  very  healthful.  My  husband  was  Captain 


22  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

Gristle  of  the  navy.  He  was  in  bad  health  when  he 
went  to  the  Squirrel  Inn,  but  the  air  did  him  good, 
and  if  we  had  staid  all  winter,  as  Stephen  Fetter 
wanted  us  to,  it  would  have  been  a  great  advantage 
to  him.  But  when  the  weather  grew  cool  we  went  to 
New  York,  where  my  husband  died  early  in  the  fol 
lowing  December.'7 

"  I  will  take  my  chances  with  Stephen  Fetter,"  said 
Lodloe,  after  a  suitable  pause.  "  I  am  going  to  the 
Squirrel  Inn,  and  I  am  bound  to  stay  there.  There 
imist  be  some  road  not  through  Germantown  by 
which  a  fellow  can  get  into  the  favor  of  Mr.  Fetter. 
Perhaps  you  will  say  a  good  word  for  me,  madam  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  any  good  word  to  say,"  she  answered, 
"  except  that  you  take  excellent  care  of  babies,  and  I 
am  not  at  all  sure  that  that  would  have  any  weight 
with  Stephen  Fetter.  Since  you  are  going  to  the 
inn,  and  since  we  have  already  talked  together  so 
much,  I  wish  I  did  properly  know  you.  Did  you 
ever  have  a  sister  at  Vassar  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  said  Lodloe,  "that  I  never  had 
ar  sister  at  that  college,  though  I  have  one  who  wanted 
very  much  to  go  there ;  but  instead  of  that  she  went 
with  an  aunt  to  Europe,  where  she  married." 

"  An  American  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lodloe. 

"  What  was  his  name  ? " 

"  Tredwell." 

"  I  never  heard  of  him,"  said  the  lady.  "  There 
don't  seem  to  be  any  threads  to  take  hold  of." 

"  Perhaps  you  had  a  brother  at  Princeton,"  re 
marked  Lodloe. 


THE   SQUIEREL  INN.  23 

"  I  have  no  brother/'  said  she. 

There  was  now  a  pause  in  the  dialogue.  The  young 
man  was  well  pleased  that  this  very  interesting 
young  woman  wished  to  know  him  properly,  as  she 
put  it,  and  if  there  could  be  found  the  least  bit  of 
foundation  on  which  might  be  built  a  conventional 
acquaintance  he  was  determined  to  find  it. 

"  Were  you  a  Vassar  girl?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie;  "I  was  there  four 
years." 

"Perhaps  you  know  something  of  old  Matthew 
Vassar,  the  founder?" 

Mrs.  Cristie  laughed.  "  I  've  heard  enough  about 
him,  you  may  be  sure ;  but  what  has  he  to  do  with 
anything  f" 

u  I  once  slept  in  his  room,"  said  Lodloe ;  "  in  the 
Founder's  Room,  with  all  his  stiff  old  furniture,  and 
his  books,  and  his  portrait." 

"  You  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Cristie.  "  When  did  you  do 
that?" 

"  It  was  two  years  ago  this  spring,"  said  Lodloe. 
"I  was  up  there  getting  material  for  an  article  on 
the  college  which  I  wrote  for  the  (  Bayside  Maga 
zine.'  " 

"  Did  you  write  that  ? "  said  Mrs.  Cristie.  "  I  read 
it,  and  it  was  just  as  full  of  mistakes  as  it  could  be." 

"  That  may  be,  and  I  don't  wonder  at  it,"  said  the 
young  man.  "I  kept  on  taking  in  material  until  I 
had  a  good  deal  more  than  I  could  properly  stow 
away  in  my  mind,  and  it  got  to  be  too  late  for  me  to 
go  back  to  the  town,  and  they  had  to  put  me  into  the 
Founder's  Room,  because  the  house  was  a  good  deal 
3 


24  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

crowded.  Before  I  went  to  bed  I  examined  all  the 
things  in  the  room.  I  did  n't  sleep  well  at  all,  for 
during  the  night  the  old  gentleman  got  down  out  of 
his  frame,  and  sat  on  the  side  of  my  bed,  and  told 
me  a  lot  of  things  about  that  college  which  nobody 
else  ever  knew,  I  am  sure." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  mixed  up  all  that  information 
with  what  the  college  people  gave  you,"  she  said. 

"  That  may  be  the  case,"  answered  Lodloe,  laugh 
ing,  "  for  some  of  the  old  gentleman's  points  were 
very  interesting  and  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
me." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  speaking  very  emphat 
ically,  "  when  I  had  finished  reading  that  article  I 
very  much  wished  to  meet  the  person  who* had  writ 
ten  it,  so  that  I  might  tell  him  what  I  thought  of  it ; 
but  of  course  I  had  no  idea  that  the  founder  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  its  inaccuracies." 

"  Madam,"  said  Lodloe,  "  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
mistakes  in  it  you  never  would  have  thought  of  the 
man  who  wrote  the  paper,  but  you  did  think  of  him, 
and  wanted  to  meet  him.  Now  it  seems  to  me  that 
we  have  been  quite  properly  introduced  to  each  other, 
and  it  was  old  Matthew  Vassar  who  did  it.  I  am  sure 
I  am  very  much  obliged  to  him." 

Mrs.  Cristie  laughed.  "I  don't  know  what  the 
social  authorities  would  say  to  such  an  introduction,'-' 
she  answered,  "  but  as  baby  is  asleep  I  shall  take  him 
into  the  saloon." 


IV 


LODLOE    UNDERTAKES    TO    NOMINATE    HIS    SUCCESSOR 


T  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the 
Romney  passengers  were  landed, 
and  Mrs.  Gristle  and  Lodloe,  with  a 
few  other  persons,  repaired  to  the 
village  hotel. 

"  There  is  a  sort  of  stage- wagon," 
said  the  lady,  u  which  takes  people  from  this  house 
to  the  Squirrel  Inn,  and  it  starts  when  the  driver  is 
ready ;  but  before  I  leave  Romney  I  must  try  to  find 
some  one  who  will  go  with  me  as  nurse-maid.* 

"  Madam,"  said  Lodloe,  "  don't  think  of  it.  I  have 
made  inquiries  of  the  landlord,  and  he  says  the  roads 
are  rough,  and  that  it  will  take  more  than  an  hour  to 
reach  the  Squirrel  Inn,  so  that  if  you  do  not  start  now 
I  fear  you  and  the  baby  will  not  get  there  before  dark. 
I  prefer  to  stay  here  to-night,  and  it  will  be  no  trou 
ble  at  all  for  me  to  look  up  a  suitable  person  for  you, 
and  to  take  her  with  me  to-morrow.  It  will  be  a 
good  plan  to  take  four  or  five  of  them,  and  when  you 
have  selected  the  one  you  like  best  the  others  can 
come  back  here  in  the  wagon.  It  will  be  a  lark  for 
them." 

25 


26  THE   SQUIEREL  INN. 

Mrs.  Gristle  drew  a  long  breath.  "Truly,"  she 
said,  "  your  proposition  is  phenomenal.  Half  a  dozen 
nurse-maids  in  a  wagon,  from  whom  I  am  to  pick  and 
choose !  The  thing  is  so  startling  and  novel  that  I 
am  inclined  to  accept.  I  should  very  much  dislike  to 
be  on  the  road  after  dark,  and  if  you  have  planned 
to  stay  here  to-night,  and  if  it  will  not  be  much 
trouble  —  " 

"  Say  not  another  word,"  cried  Lodloe ;  "  project 
your  mind  into  to-morrow  morning,  and  behold  a 
wagon-load  of  willing  maidens  at  the  door  of  the 
inn." 

When  Mrs.  Cristie  and  the  baby  and  an  elderly 
woman  who  lived  in  Lethbury,  a  village  two  miles 
beyond  the  Squirrel  Inn,  had  started  on  their  journey, 
Walter  Lodloe  set  about  the  task  he  had  undertaken. 
It  was  still  hot,  and  the  Romney  streets  were  dusty, 
and  after  an  hour  or  two  of  inquiry,  walking,  and 
waiting  for  people  who  had  been  sent  for,  Lodloe 
found  that  in  the  whole  village  there  was  not  a  female 
from  thirteen  to  seventy-three  who  would  think  of 
such  a  thing  as  leaving  her  home  to  become  nurse 
maid  to  a  city  lady.  He  went  to  bed  that  night  a 
good  deal  chagrined,  and  not  in  the  least  knowing 
what  he  was  going  to  do  about  it. 

In  the  morning,  however,  the  thing  to  do  rose  clear 
and  plain  before  him. 

"  I  can't  go  to  her  and  tell  her  I  Ve  failed,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  A  maid  must  be  got,  and  I  have  under 
taken  to  get  one.  As  there  is  nobody  to  be  had  here, 
I  must  go  back  to  the  city  for  one.  There  are  plenty 
of  them  there." 


THE   SQUIRREL   INN.  27 

So  when  the  early  morning  boat  came  along  he 
took  passage  for  the  nearest  railroad  station  on  the 
river,  for  he  wished  to  lose  no  time  on  that  trip. 

The  elderly  lady  who  was  going  to  Lethbury  took 
a  great  interest  in  Mrs.  Cristie,  who  was  to  be  her 
only  fellow-passenger.  She  was  at  the  hotel  with  her 
carpet-bag  and  her  paper  bundle  some  time  before 
the  big  spring-wagon  was  ready  to  start,  and  she 
gave  earnest  attention  to  the  loading  thereon  of  Mrs. 
Cristie's  trunk  and  the  baby-carriage.  When  they 
were  on  their  way  the  elderly  woman  promptly  began 
the  conversation : 

"  I  think,"  said  she  to  Mrs.  Cristie,  "  that  I  've  seed 
you  before." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  the  other ;  "  I  was  in  this  region 
three  years  ago." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  elder  woman ;  "  I  thought  I 
was  right.  Then  you  had  a  husband  and  no  child.  It 
now  looks  as  if  you  had  a  child  and  no  husband." 

Mrs.  Cristie  informed  her  that  her  surmise  was 
correct. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  elderly  woman  ;  "  I  've  had 
'em  both,  and  it 's  hard  to  say  which  can  be  spared 
best,  but  as  we  've  got  nothin'  to  do  with  the  sparin' 
of  'em,  we've  got  ter  rest  satisfied.  After  all,  they're 
a  good  deal  like  lilock  bushes,  both  of  'em.  They 
may  be  cut  down,  and  grubbed  up,  and  a  parsley  bed 
made  on  the  spot,  but  some  day  they  sprout  up  ag'in, 
and  before  you  know  it  you  've  got  just  as  big  a  bush 
as  ever.  Does  Stephen  Fetter  know  you  're  comin '  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  quite  willing  to  change 
the  subject;  "all  that  is  arranged.  I  was  so  pleased 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  29 

with  the  place  when  I  was  here  before,  and  Mrs. 
Petter  was  so  good  to  me,  that  I  quite  long  to  spend 
a  summer  there  with  my  child." 

"  Well,  I  'm  glad  he  knows  you  are  comin',  but  if 
he  did  n't,  I  was  goin'  ter  say  to  you  that  you  'd  better 
go  on  to  Lethbury,  and  then  see  what  you  could  do 
with  Stephen  to-morrow.  It  ?s  no  use  stoppin'  at  his 
house  without  givin'  notice,  and  like  as  not  it  ain't  no 
use  then." 

"  Is  Mr.  Fetter's  house  filled  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  Filled !  "  said  the  elderly  woman.  "  There  's 
nobody  on  the  place  but  his  own  family  and  the 
Greek." 

"  Greek ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other ;  "  he  keeps  a  Greek  in  an 
outhouse,  but  what  for  nobody  knows.  I  think 
Stephen  Petter  is  gettin'  more  oncommon  than  he 
was.  If  he  wants  to  get  custom  for  his  house  the 
best  thing  he  can  do  is  to  die.  There  ain't  no  other 
way,  for  Stephen  's  not  goin'  to  do  no  changin'  of 
himself.  My  niece,  Calthea  Rose,  the  daughter  of 
Daniel  Rose,  who  used  to  keep  the  store, —  she  keeps 
it  now  herself, —  goes  over  there  a  good  deal,  for  she 's 
wonderful  partial  to  Susan  Petter,  and  there 's  a  good 
reason  for  it  too,  for  a  better  woman  never  lived,  and 
the  walk  over  there  is  mostly  shady,  or  through  the 
fields,  to  both  of  which  Calthea  is  partial,  and  so  she 
knows  most  things  that  's  goin'  on  at  the  Squirrel 
Inn,  which  latterly  has  not  been  much,  except  the 
comin'  of  the  Greek  ;  an'  as  nobody  has  been  able  to 
get  at  the  bottom  of  that  business,  that  is  n't  much, 
neither." 


30  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

"  I  think  I  remember  Miss  Calthea  Kose,"  said  Mrs. 
Cristie.  "  Slie  was  tall,  was  n't  she,  with  a  very  fair 
complexion  ? " 

"  Yes/'  said  the  elderly  woman  ;  "  and  it 's  just  as 
fair  now  as  it  was  then.  Some  of  it 's  owin'  to  sun- 
bonnet,  and  some  of  it  to  cold  cream.  Calthea  is  n't 
as  young  as  she  was,  but  she  's  wonderful  lively  on 
her  feet  yit,  and  there  ain't  many  that  could  get  ahead 
of  her  walkin'  or  bargaininV' 

"  And  she  keeps  the  store  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other ;  "  she  keeps  it,  and  in  more 
ways  than  one.  You  see,  when  Dan'el  died — and  that 
was  two  years  ago  last  March — he  left  everything  to 
Calthea,  and  the  store  with  the  rest.  Before  he  died 
he  told  her  what  he  had  done,  and  advised  her  to  sell 
out  the  stock,  and  put  the  money  into  somethin'  that 
would  pay  good  interest,  and  this  she  agreed  to  do, 
and  this  she  is  doing  now.  She  would  n't  consent  to 
no  auction,  for  she  knew  well  enough  the  things 
would  n't  bring  more  'n  half  they  cost,  so  she  under 
took  herself  to  sell  'em  all  out  at  retail,  just  as  her 
father  intended  they  should  be  sold  when  he  bought 
'em.  "Well,  it  's  took  her  a  long  while,  and,  in  the 
opinion  of  most  folks,  it  '11  take  her  a  long  while  yit. 
You  see  she  don't  lay  in  no  new  goods,  but  just  keeps 
on  sellin'  or  tryin'  to  sell  what  she  's  got  on  hand. 

"  It  was  purty  easy  to  get  rid  of  the  groceries,  and 
the  iron  and  wooden  things  got  themselves  sold  some 
way  or  other;  but  old  dry-goods,  with  never  any  new 
ones  to  lighten  'em  up,  is  about  as  humdrum  as  old 
people  without  youngsters  in  the  family.  Now  it 
stands  to  reason  that  when  a  person  goes  into  a  store 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  31 

and  sees  nothin'  but  old  calicoes,  and  some  other 
odds  and  ends,  gettin'  mustier  and  dustier  and  a  little 
more  fly-specked  every  time,  and  never  a  new  thing, 
even  so  much  as  a  spool  of  cotton  thread,  then  persons 
is  n't  likely  to  go  often  into  that  store,  specially  when 
there  's  a  new  one  in  the  village  that  keeps  up  to  the 
times. 

u  Now  that 's  Calthea  Rose's  way  of  doin'  business. 
She  undertook  to  sell  out  them  goods,  and  she  's 
goin'  to  keep  on  till  she  does  it.  She  is  willin'  to  sell 
some  of  the  worst-lookin'  things  at  cost,  but  not  a 
cent  below  that,  for  if  she  does,  she  loses  money,  and 
that  is  n't  Calthea  Rose.  I  guess,  all  put  together,  she 
has  n't  sold  more  'n  ten  dollars'  worth  of  goods  this 
year,  and  most  of  them  was  took  by  the  Greek,  though 
what  he  wants  with  'em  is  more  'n  I  know." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  there  are  no  guests  at  the 
Squirrel  Inn,"  was  Mrs.  Cristie's  only  reply  to  this 
information. 

"  Oh,  you  need  n't  give  yourself  no  trouble  about 
loneliness  and  that  sort  of  thing,"  said  the  elderly 
woman ;  "  before  to-morrow  night  the  whole  house 
may  be  crowded  from  cockloft  to  potato-cellar.  It 
never  has  been  yit,  but  there 's  no  tellin'  what  Stephen 
Fetter  has  a-brewin'  in  his  mind." 


THE    LANDLORD   AND    HIS    INN 


TEPHEN  FETTER  was  a  man  of 
middle  age,  who  had  been  born  on  a 
farm,  and  who,  apparently,  had  been 
destined  to  farm  a  farm.  But  at 
the  age  of  thirty,  having  come  into 
a  moderate  inheritance,  he  devoted 
himself  more  to  the  business  of  cultivating  himself 
and  less  to  that  of  cultivating  his  fields. 

He  was  a  man  who  had  built  himself  up  out  of 
books.  His  regular  education  had  been  limited,  but 
he  was  an  industrious  reader,  and  from  the  characters 
of  this  and  that  author  he  had  conceived  an  idea  of 
a  sort  of  man  which  pleased  his  fancy,  and  to  make 
himself  this  sort  of  man  he  had  given  a  great  deal 
of  .study  and  a  great  deal  of  hard  labor.  The  result 
was  that  he  had  shaped  himself  into  something  like 
an  old-fashioned  country  clergyman,  without  his 
education,  his  manners,  his  religion,  or  his  clothes. 
Imperfect  similitudes  of  these  Stephen  Fetter  had 
acquired,  but  this  was  as  far  as  he  had  gone.  A  well- 
read  man  who  happened  also  to  be  a  good  judge  of 
human  nature  could  have  traced  back  every  obvious 
point  of  Stephen  Fetter's  character  to  some  English 

32 


THE  SQUIREEL  INN. 


33 


author  of  the  last  century  or  the  first  half  of  this 
one. 

It  was  rather  odd  that  a  man  like  this  should  be 
the  landlord  of  an  inn.  But  everything  about  Stephen 
Fetter  was  odd,  so  ten  years  before  he  had  conceived 


STEPHEN  PETTER. 

the  notion  that  such  a  man  as  he  would  like  to  be 
would  be  entirely  unwilling  to  live  in  the  little  village 
of  Lethbury,  where  he  had  no  opportunity  of  exer 
cising  an  influence  upon  his  fellow-beings.  Such  an 
influence  he  thought  it  fit  to  exercise,  and  as  he  was 
not  qualified  to  be  a  clergyman,  or  a  physician,  or  a 
lawyer,  he  resolved  to  keep  a  tavern.  This  vocation 
would  bring  him  into  contact  with  fellow-beings;  it 
would  give  him  opportunities  to  control,  impel,  and 
retard. 


34  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

Stephen  Fetter  did  not  for  a  moment  think  of  buy 
ing  the  Lethbury  "  Hotel,"  nor  of  establishing  such  a 
house  as  was  demanded  by  the  village.  What  he  had 
read  about  houses  of  entertainment  gave  him  no  such 
motives  as  these.  Fortunately  he  had  an  opportunity 
of  carrying  out  his  plan  according  to  the  notions  he 
had  imbibed  from  his  books. 

Some  years  before  Stephen  Fetter  had  decided 
upon  his  vocation,  a  rich  gentleman  had  built  himself 
a  country-seat  about  two  miles  out  of  Lethbury.  This 
house  and  its  handsome  grounds  were  the  talk  and 
the  admiration  of  the  neighborhood.  But  the  owner 
had  not  occupied  his  country-home  a  whole  summer 
before  he  determined  to  make  a  still  more  attractive 
home  of  it  by  lighting  it  with  a  new-fashioned  gas  of 
domestic  manufacture.  He  succeeded  in  lighting  not 
only  his  house  but  the  whole  country-side,  for  one 
moonless  night  his  mansion  was  burned  to  the  ground. 
Nothing  was  left  of  the  house  but  the  foundations, 
and  on  these  the  owner  felt  no  desire  to  build  again. 
He  departed  from  the  Lethbury  neighborhood  and 
never  came  back. 

When  Mr.  Fetter  became  impressed  with  the  belief 
that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  him  to  be  an  inn 
keeper,  he  also  became  impressed  with  the  belief  that 
the  situation  which  the  rich  man  had  chosen  for  his 
country-home  would  be  an  admirable  one  for  his  pur 
poses.  He  accordingly  bought  the  property  at  a  very 
reasonable  price,  and  on  the  stone  foundations  of  the 
house  which  had  been  burned  he  built  his  inn. 

This  edifice  was  constructed  very  much  as  he  had 
endeavored  to  construct  himself.  '  His  plans  for  one 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  35 

part  of  it  were  made  up  from  the  descriptions  in  one 
of  his  books,  and  those  of  another  part  from  the 
descriptions  or  pictures  in  some  other  book.  Portions 
of  the  structure  were  colonial,  others  were  old  Eng 
lish,  and  others  again  suggested  the  Swiss  chalet  or 
a  chateau  in  Normandy.  There  was  a  tall  tower  and 
there  were  some  little  towers.  There  were  peaks  here 
and  there,  and  different  kinds  of  slopes  to  the  various 
roofs,  some  of  which  were  thatched,  some  shingled  in 
fanciful  ways,  and  some  covered  with  long  strips  or 
slabs.  There  were  a  good  many  doors  and  a  good 
many  windows,  and  these  were  of  different  forms, 
sizes,  and  periods,  some  of  them  jutting  boldly  out 
ward,  and  some  appearing  anxious  to  shrink  out  of 
sight. 

It  took  a  great  deal  of  thought  and  a  good  deal  of 
labor  to  build  this  house ;  which  was  also  true  of  Mr. 
Fetter's  character.  But  the  first-named  work  was  the 
more  difficult  of  the  two,  for  in  building  up  himself 
he  consulted  with  no  one,  while  in  planning  his  inn 
he  met  with  all  sorts  of  opposition  from  the  village 
workmen  and  builders. 

But  at  the  cost  of  all  the  time  that  was  needed  and 
all  the  money  he  could  spare,  he  had  his  house  built 
as  he  wanted  it ;  and  when  it  was  finished  it  seemed 
to  exhibit  a  trace  of  nearly  everything  a  house  should 
possess  excepting  chronology  and  paint.  Mr.  Fetter 
had  selected  with  a  great  deal  of  care  the  various 
woods  of  which  his  house  was  built,  and  he  decidedly 
objected  to  conceal  their  hues  and  texture  by  monoto 
nous  paint.  The  descriptions  that  he  had  read  of 
houses  seldom  mentioned  paint. 


36  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

The  interior  was  not  in  the  least  monotonous.  The 
floors  of  the  rooms,  even  in  the  same  story,  were 
seldom  upon  the  same  level  j  sometimes  one  entered 
a  room  from  a  hallway  by  an  ascent  of  two  or  three 
steps,  while  access  to  others  was  obtained  by  going 
down  some  steps.  The  inside  was  subordinated  in  a 
great  degree  to  the  outside  :  if  there  happened  to  be 
a  pretty  window  like  something  Mr.  Fetter  had  seen 
in  an  engraving,  a  room  of  suitable  shape  and  size 
was  constructed  behind  the  window.  Stairways  were 
placed  where  they  were  needed,  but  they  were  not 
allowed  to  interfere  with  the  shapes  of  rooms  or  hall 
ways;  if  there  happened  to  be  no  other  good  place 
for  them  they  were  put  on  the  outside  of  the  house. 
Some  of  these  stairways  were  wide,  some  narrow, 
and  some  winding ;  and  as  those  on  the  outside  were 
generally  covered  they  increased  the  opportunities 
for  queer  windows  and  perplexing  projections.  The 
upper  room  of  the  tower  was  reached  by  a  staircase 
from  the  outside,  which  opened  into  a  little  garden 
fenced  off  from  the  rest  of  the  grounds,  so  that  a 
person  might  occupy  this  room  without  having  any 
communication  with  the  other  people  in  the  house. 

In  one  of  the  back  wings  of  the  building  there  was 
a  room  which  was  more  peculiar  than  any  other,  from 
the  fact  that  there  was  no  entrance  to  it  whatever, 
unless  one  climbed  into  it  by  means  of  a  ladder 
placed  at  one  of  its  windows.  This  room,  which  was 
of  fair  size  and  well  lighted,  was  in  the  second  story, 
but  it  appeared  to  be  of  greater  height  on  account  of 
the  descent  of  the  ground  at  the  back  of  the  inn.  It 
had  been  constructed  because  the  shape  of  that  part 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  37 

of  the  building  called  for  a  room,  and  a  stairway  to 
it  had  been  omitted  for  the  reason  that  if  one  had 
been  built  in  the  inside  of  the  house  it  would  have 
spoiled  the  shape  of  the  room  below,  and  there  seemed 
no  good  way  of  putting  one  on  the  outside.  So  when 
the  room  was  finished  and  floored  the  workmen  came 
out  of  it  through  one  of  the  windows,  and  Stephen 
Fetter  reserved  his  decision  in  regard  to  a  door  and 
stairway  until  the  apartment  should  be  needed.  The 
grounds  around  the  Squirrel  Inn  were  interesting 
and  attractive,  and  with  them  Stephen  Fetter  had 
interfered  very  little.  The  rich  man  had  planned 
beautiful  surroundings  for  his  country-home,  and 
during  many  years  nature  had  labored  steadily  to 
carry  out  his  plans.  There  were  grassy  stretches  and 
slopes,  great  trees,  and  terraces  covered  with  tangled 
masses  of  vines  and  flowers.  The  house  stood  on  a 
bluff,  and  on  one  side  could  be  seen  a  wide  view  of 
a  lovely  valley,  with  the  two  steeples  of  Lethbury 
showing  above  the  treetops. 

Back  of  the  house,  and  sweeping  around  between 
it  and  the  public  road,  was  a  far-reaching  extent  of 
woodland ;  and  through  this,  for  the  distance  of  half 
a  mile,  wound  the  shaded  lane  which  led  from  the 
highway  to  the  Squirrel  Inn. 

At  the  point  at  which  this  lane  was  entered  from 
the  highroad  was  the  sign  of  the  inn.  This  was  a  tall 
post  with  a  small  square  frame  hanging  from  a  trans 
verse  beam,  and  seated  on  the  lower  strip  of  the  frame 
was  a  large  stuffed  gray  squirrel.  Every  spring  Ste 
phen  Fetter  took  down  this  squirrel  and  put  up  a  new 
one.  The  old  squirrels  were  fastened  up  side  by  side 


38 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 


on  a  ledge  in  the  taproom,  and  by  counting  them  one 
could  find  out  how  many  years  the  inn  had  been  kept. 
Directly  below  the  bluff  on  which  the  house  stood 
were  Stephen  Fetter's  grassy  meadows  and  his  fields 
of  grain  and  corn,  and  in  the  rich  pastures,  or  in  the 


THE   SIGN. 


shade  of  the  trees  standing  by  the  bank  of  the  rapid 
little  stream  that  ran  down  from  the  woodlands, 
might  be  seen  his  flocks  and  his  herds.  By  nature 
he  was  a  very  good  farmer,  and  his  agricultural 
method  he  had  not  derived  from  his  books.  There 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  39 

were  people  who  said — and  among  these  Calthea 
Rose  expressed  herself  rather  better  than  the  others 
— that  Mr.  Fetter's  farm  kept  him,  while  he  kept  the 
Squirrel  Inn. 

When  it  had  become  known  that  the  Squirrel  Inn 
was  ready  to  receive  guests,  people  came  from  here 
and  there ;  not  very  many  of  them,  but  among  them 
were  the  Rockmores  of  Germantown.  This  large 
family,  so  it  appeared  to  Stephen  Fetter,  was  com 
posed  of  the  kind  of  fellow-beings  with  whom  he  wished 
.  to  associate.  Their  manners  and  ways  seemed  to  him 
the  manners  and  ways  of  the  people  he  liked  to  read 
about,  and  he  regarded  them  with  admiration  and 
respect.  He  soon  discovered  from  their  conversation 
that  they  were  connected  or  acquainted  with  leading 
families  in  our  principal  Eastern  cities,  and  it  became 
»  his  hope  that  he  and  his  Squirrel  Inn  might  become 
connected  with  these  leading  families  by  means  of  the 
Rockmores  of  Germantown. 

As  this  high-classed  family  liked  variety  in  their 
summer  outings,  they  did  not  come  again  to  the 
Squirrel  Inn,  but  the  effect  of  their  influence  re 
mained  strong  upon  its  landlord.  He  made  up  his 
mind  that  those  persons  who  did  not  know  the  Rock- 
mores  of  Germantown  did  not  move  in  those  circles 
of  society  from  which  he  wished  to  obtain  his  guests, 
and  therefore  he  drew  a  line  which  excluded  all 
persons  who  did  not  possess  this  acquaintanceship. 

This  rule  was  very  effectual  in  preventing  the 
crowding  of  his  house,  and,  indeed,  there  were  sum 
mers  when  he  had  no  guests  at  all ;  but  this  did  not 
move  Stephen  Fetter.  Better  an  empty  house  than 
people  outside  the  .pale  of  good  society. 
4 


VI 


THE   GREEK  SCHOLAR 


S.  CRISTIE  and  her  baby  were 
warmly  welcomed  by  Stephen  Pet- 
ter  and  his  wife.  They  had  learned 
during  her  former  visit  to  like  this 
lady  for  herself,  and  now  that  she 
came  to  them  a  widow  their  senti 
ments  towards  her  were  warmer  than  ever. 

Mrs.  Fetter  wondered  very  much  why  she  had  come 
without  a  maid,  but  fearing  that  perhaps  the  poor 
lady's  circumstances  were  not  what  they  had  been 
she  forbore  to  ask  any  immediate  questions.  But  in 
her  heart  she  resolved  that,  if  she  kept  her  health  and 
strength,  Mrs.  Cristie  should  not  be  worn  out  by  that 
child. 

The  young  widow  was  charmed  to  find  herself  once 
more  at  the  Squirrel  Inn,  for  it  had  been  more  like  a 
home  to  her  than  any  place  in  which  she  had  lived 
since  her  marriage,  but  when  she  went  to  her  room 
that  night  there  was  a  certain  depression  on  her 
spirits.  This  was  caused  by  the  expected  advent  on 
the  next  day  of  Mr.  Lodloe  and  a  wagon-load  of  can 
didates  for  the  nurse-maidship. 

40 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  41 

The  whole  affair  annoyed  her.  In  the  first  place  it 
was. very  awkward  to  have  this  young  man  engaged  in 
this  service  for  her;  and  now  that  he  was  engaged 
in  it,  it  would  be,  in  a  manner,  under  her  auspices  that 
he  would  arrive  at  the  Squirrel  Inn.  The  more  she 
thought  of  the  matter  the  more  it  annoyed  her.  She 
now  saw  that  she  must  announce  the  coming  of  this 
gentleman.  It  would  not  do  for  him  to  make  a  totally 
unexpected  appearance  as  her  agent  in  the  nurse-maid 
business. 

But  no  worry  of  this  sort  could  keep  her  awake 
very  long,  and  after  a  night  of  sound  and  healthful 
sleep  she  told  her  host  and  hostess,  the  next  morning 
at  breakfast,  of  the  Mr.  Lodloe  who  had  kindly  under 
taken  to  bring  her  a  nurse-maid. 

"  Lodloe,"  repeated  Mr.  Fetter.  "  It  strikes  me  that 
I  have  heard  the  Rockmores  mention  that  name.  Is 
it  a  Grermantown  family  ?  " 

"  I  really  do  not  know,"  answered  Mrs.  Cristie ;  "he 
is  from  New  York." 

Here  she  stopped.  She  was  of  a  frank  and  truth 
ful  nature,  and  very  much  wished  to  say  that  she 
knew  nothing  whatever  of  Mr.  Lodloe,  but  she  was 
also  of  a  kindly  and  grateful  disposition,  and  she  very 
well  knew  that  such  a  remark  would  be  an  extremely 
detrimental  one  to  the  young  man ;  so,  being  in  doubt, 
she  resolved  to  play  trumps,  and  in  cases  like  this 
silence  is  generally  trumps. 

Mrs.  Fetter  had  a  mind  which  could  project  itself 
with  the  rapidity  of  light  into  the  regions  of  possibili 
ties,  and  if  the  possibilities  appeared  to  her  desirable 
her  mind  moved  at  even  greater  velocity.  It  was 


42 


THE   SQUIRREL   INN. 


plain  to  her  that  there  must  be  something  between  this 
young  widow  and  the  young  man  who  was  going  to 
bring  her  a  nurse-maid;  and  if  this  were  the  ease, 


A  GREEK  IN   AN   OUTHOUSE. 


nothing  must  be  allowed  to  interfere  with  the  admis 
sion  of  said  young  man  as  a  guest  at  the  Squirrel  Inn. 


THE  SQUIREEL  INN.  43 

Mrs.  Gristle  did  not  want  to  talk  any  more  on  this 
subject.  Nothing  would  have  pleased  her  better  at 
that  moment  than  to  hear  that  Mr.  Lodloe  had  been 
unable  to  find  her  a  suitable  girl  and  that  business 
had  called  him  to  New  York. 

"  Mr.  Fetter,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  was  told  yesterday 
that  you  kept  a  Greek  in  an  outhouse.  What  on 
earth  does  that  mean?" 

Here  Mrs.  Fetter  laughed  abruptly,  and  Mr.  Fetter 
slightly  lifted  his  brow. 

"Who  could  have  told  you  such  nonsense?"  he 
said.  "There  is  no  Greek  here.  It  is  true  that  a 
Greek  scholar  lives  in  my  summer-house,  but  that  is 
very  different  from  keeping  a  Greek  in  an  outhouse." 

"And  he  's  always  late  to  breakfast,"  said  Mrs. 
Fetter ;  "  I  believe  if  we  sat  down  at  the  table  at  nine 
o'clock  he  would  come  in  just  as  we  were  finishing." 

"  How  does  it  happen,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  "  that  he 
lives  in  the  summer-house?" 

"He  does  not  know  the  Eockmores  of  German- 
town,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter. 

"  He  is  a  man  of  learning,"  remarked  Stephen  Fet 
ter,  "  with  a  fine  mind ;  and  although  I  have  made  a 
rule  which  is  intended  to  keep  up  the  reputation  of 
this  house  to  a  desirable  level,  I  do  not  intend,  if  I 
can  help  it,  that  my  rules  shall  press  pinchingly, 
oppressively,  or  irritatively  upon  estimable  persons. 
Such  a  person  is  Mr.  Tippengray,  our  Greek  scholar; 
and  although  his  social  relations  are  not  exactly  up 
to  the  mark,  he  is  not  a  man  who  should  be  denied 
the  privileges  of  this  house,  so  far  as  they  can  be 
conscientiously  given  him.  So  you  see,  Mrs.  Cristie, 


44  THE  SQUIEEEL  INN. 

that,  although  I  could  not  take  him  into  the  inn, 
there  was  no  reason  why  I  should  not  fit  up  the  sum 
mer-house  for  him,  which  I  did,  and  I  believe  he  likes 
it  better  than  living  in  the  house  with  us." 

"  Like  it ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fetter ;  "  I  should  say 
he  did  like  it.  I  believe  it  would  drive  him  crazy  if 
he  had  to  keep  regular  hours  like  other  people ;  but 
here  he  is  now.  Hester,  bring  in  some  hot  cakes. 
Mrs.  Cristie,  allow  me  to  introduce  Mr.  Tippengray." 

The  appearance  of  the  Greek  scholar  surprised  Mrs. 
Cristie.  She  had  expected  to  see  a  man  in  thread 
bare  black,  with  a  reserved  and  bowed  demeanor. 


- 


MR.    TIPPENGEAY. 

Instead  of  this,  she  saw  a  bright  little  gentleman  in 
neat  summer  clothes,  with  a  large  blue  cravat  tied 
sailor  fashion.  He  was  not  a  young  man,  although 
his  hair  being  light  the  few  portions  of  it  which  had 
turned  gray  were  not  conspicuous.  He  was  a  man 
who  was  inclined  to  listen  and  to  observe  rather  than 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  45 

to  talk,  but  when  he  had  anything  to  say  he  popped 
it  out  very  briskly. 

Mr.  Fetter,  having  finished  his  breakfast,  excused 
himself  and  retired,  and  Mrs.  Fetter  remarked  to  Mr. 
Tippengray  that  she  was  sorry  he  had  not  taken  his 
evening  meal  with  them  the  day  before. 

"  I  took  such  a  long  walk,"  said  the  Greek  scholar, 
"  that  I  concluded  to  sup  in  Lethbury." 

"  Those  Lethbury  people  usually  take  tea  at  five," 
said  his  hostess. 

"  But  I  'm  not  a  Lethbury  person,"  said  he,  "  and  I 
took  my  tea  at  seven." 

Mrs.  Fetter  looked  at  him  with  twinkles  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Of  course  you  went  to  the  hotel,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Tippengray  looked  at  her  with  twinkles  in  his 
eyes. 

"Madam,"  said  he,  "have  you  noticed  that  those 
large  blue-jays  that  were  here  in  the  spring  have  al 
most  entirely  disappeared.  I  remember  you  used  to 
object  to  their  shrill  pipes." 

"  Which  is  as  much  as  to  say,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter,  "  you 
don't  care  to  mention  where  you  took  tea  yesterday." 

"  Madam,"  said  Mr.  Tippengray,  "  the  pleasure  of 
taking  breakfast  here  to-day  effaces  the  memory  of 
all  former  meals." 

"  The  truth  of  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter  to  Mrs.  Cris- 
tie,  when  they  had  left  the  table,  "  Calthea  Rose  gave 
him  his  tea,  and  he  don't  want  to  say  so.  She  's 
mightily  ta,ken  with  him,  for  he  is  a  fine-minded  man, 
and  it  is  n't  often  she  gets  the  chance  of  keeping 
company  with  that  kind  of  a  man.  I  don't  know 


46 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 


whether  he  likes  her  liking  or  not,  but  he  don't  care 
to  talk  about  it." 

Her  first  day  at  the  Squirrel  Inn  was  not  altogether 
a  pleasant  one  for  Bertha  Cristie.  In  spite  of  the 
niuch-proffered  service  of  Mrs.  Fetter  the  care  of  her 
baby  hampered  her  a  good  deal;  and  notwithstanding 
the  delights  of  her  surroundings  her  mind  was  en 
tirely  too  much  occupied  with  wondering  when  Mr. 
Lodloe  would  arrive  with  his  wagon-load  of  girls,  and 
what  she  would  have  to  say  to  him  and  about  him 
when  he  did  arrive. 


VII 


ROCKMORES  AHEAD 


T  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day 
after  Mrs.  Cristie  reached  the  Squir 
rel  Inn  that  she  slowly  trundled  the 
little  carriage  containing  the  baby 
towards  the  end  of  the  bluff  be 
neath  which  stretched  the  fair  pas 
tures  where  were  feeding  Mr.  Fetter's  flocks  and 
herds.  All  day  she  had  been  looking  for  the  arrival 
of  the  young  man  who  had  promised  to  bring  her 
some  candidates  for  the  position  of  child's  nurse,  and 
now  she  was  beginning  to  believe  that  she  might  as 
well  cease  to  expect  him.  It  was  an  odd  sort  of 
service  for  a  comparative  stranger  voluntarily  to 
undertake,  and  it  would  not  be  at  all  surprising  if  he 
had  failed  in  his  efforts  or  had  given  up  his  idea  of 
coming  to  the  Squirrel  Inn. 

Having  philosophized  a  little  on  the  subject,  and 
having  succeeded  in  assuring  herself  that  after  all 
the  matter  was  of  no  great  importance,  and  that  she 
should  have  attended  to  it  herself,  and  must  do  it 
the  next  day,  she  was  surprised  to  find  how  glad 
she  was  when,  turning,  she  saw  emerging  from  the 
woodland  road  a  one-horse  wagon  with  Mr.  Lodloe 

47 


48  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

sitting  by  the  driver,  and  a  female  figure  on  the 
back  seat. 

The  latter  proved  to  be  a  young  person  who  at  a 
considerable  distance  looked  about  fourteen  years 
old,  although  on  a  nearer  and  more  careful  view  she 
would  pass  for  twenty,  or  thereabouts.  She  wore  a 
round  straw  hat  with  a  white  ribbon,  and  a  light- 
colored  summer  suit  with  a  broad  belt,  which  held 
a  large  bunch  of  yellow  flowers  with  brown  centers. 
She  had  a  cheerful,  pleasant  countenance,  and  large 
brown  eyes  which  seemed  to  observe  everything. 

As  the  wagon  approached,  Mrs.  Cristie  rapidly 
pushed  her  baby-carriage  towards  the  house.  Before 
she  reached  it  the  young  girl  had  jumped  to  the 
ground,  and  was  advancing  towards  her. 

"  I  suppose  this  is  Mrs.  Cristie,"  said  the  newcomer. 
lt  I  am  Ida  Mayberry  " ;  and  she  held  out  her  hand. 
Without  a  word  Mrs.  Cristie  shook  hands  with  the 
nurse-maid. 

"  I  think,"  said  the  latter,  "  before  we  have  any  talk 
I  would  better  go  to  my  room  and  freshen  myself  up 
a  little.  I  am  covered  with  dust";  and  then  she 
turned  to  the  driver  of  the  wagon  and  gave  him 
directions  in  regard  to  a  medium-sized  trunk,  a  large 
flat  box,  and  several  long  packages  tied  up  in  brown 
muslin,  which  had  been  strapped  to  the  back  of  the 
wagon.  When  these  had  been  taken  into  the  inn,  she 
followed  them. 

As  Mr.  Lodloe  approached  Mrs.  Cristie,  hat  in 
hand,  she  exclaimed  in  a  tone  which  she  was  not  in 
the  habit  of  using  to  comparative  strangers,  in  which 
category  sober  reflection  would  certainly  have  placed 
the  gentleman : 


50  THE  SQUIREEL  INN. 

"  Will  you  please  to  tell  me  what  is  the  meaning  of 
this  ?  Who  is  that  girl,  and  where  did  she  come  from  ?  " 

"Madam,"  said  Lodloe,  in  a  deprecatory  tone,  "I 
can  scarcely  pick  up  the  courage  to  say  so,  but  that 
is  the  nurse-maid." 

"  And  you  brought  her  to  me  ? "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Cristie. 

"  I  did,"  he  answered. 

"  Did  you  get  her  in  Romney?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lodloe ;  "  there  was  n't  a  girl  of  any 
sort  or  kind  to  be  had  there.  I  was  obliged  to  go  to 
New  York  for  one." 

"  To  New  York ! "  cried  the  astonished  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"Madam,"  said  Lodloe,  "let  me  propose  that  we 
retire  a  little  from  the  house.  Perhaps  her  room  may 
be  somewhere  above  us." 

And  the  two  having  walked  a  short  distance  over 
the  lawn,  he  continued  : 

"I  really  believe  that  I  have  done  a  very  foolish 
thing,  but  having  promised  to  do  you  a  service  I 
greatly  disliked  not  to  keep  my  word.  I  could  find  no 
one  in  Romney,  and  of  course  the  only  way  to  get  you 
a  girl  was  to  go  to  New  York ;  and  so  I  went  there. 
My  idea  was  to  apply  to  one  of  those  establishments 
where  there  are  always  lots  of  maids  of  all  grades, 
and  bring  one  to  you.  That  was  the  way  the  matter 
appeared  to  me,  and  it  seemed  simple  enough.  On  the 
ferryboat  I  met  Mrs.  Waltham,  a  lady  I  know  very 
well,  who  is  a  member  of  the  Monday  Morning  Club, 
and  a  great  promoter  of  college  annexes  for  girls,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing ;  and  when  I  asked  her  advice 
about  the  best  intelligence  office,  she  told  me  to  keep 


THE  SQUIEREL  INN.  51 

away  from  all  of  them,  and  to  go  instead  to  a  teachers' 
agency,  of  which  she  gave  me  the  address,  where  she 
said  I  would  be  almost  sure  to  find  some  teacher  who 
wanted  occupation  during  the  holidays." 

"  A  teacher ! "  cried  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lodloe ;  "  and  you  may  be  sure  that  I 
was  as  much  surprised  as  you  are.  But  Mrs.  Wal- 
tham  assured  me  that  a  great  many  women  teachers 
found  it  necessary  to  make  money  during  the  sum 
mer,  and  were  glad  to  do  anything,  just  as  college 
students  wait  at  hotels.  The  more  she  talked  about 
it  the  more  she  got  interested  in  it,  and  the  matter 
resulted  in  her  going  to  the  agency  with  me.  Mrs. 
Waltham  is  a  heavy  swell  in  educational  circles,  and 
as  she  selected  this  girl  herself  I  said  not  a  word  about 
it,  except  to  hurry  up  matters  so  that  the  girl  and  I 
could  start  on  an  early  afternoon  train." 

"Never  in  my  life!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  Madam,"  interrupted  Lodloe,  "  I  beg  you  not  to 
say  what  you  intended.  It  is  impossible  for  you  to 
feel  as  badly  about  it  as  I  do.  Just  to  think  of  it 
stuns  me.  Did  you  see  her  baggage  ?  She  has  come 
to  stay  all  summer.  There  is  no  earthly  reason  to 
think  she  will  suit  you.  I  don't  suppose  she  ever  saw 
a  baby." 

Mrs.  Cristie's  mind  was  still  filled  with  surprise 
and  vexation,  but  she  could  not  help  laughing  at 
Mr.  Lodloe's  comical  contrition. 

"  I  will  see  her  presently,"  she  said ;  "  but  in  the 
mean  time  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  There  is  Mr. 
Fetter  standing  in  the  doorway  waiting  for  your 
approach,  and  he  will  ask  you  a  lot  of  questions." 


52  THE  SQUIEREL  INN. 

"About  the  Germantown  family,  I  suppose,"  said 
Lodloe. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie ;  "  that  will  be  one  of 
them." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  them,"  said  Lodloe,  "and 
that  's  the  end  of  it." 

"  By  no  means,"  said  the  lady,  quickly ;  "  Mr.  Pet- 
ter  has  on  his  most  impressive  air.  You  must  go  and 
talk  to  him,  and  it  will  not  do  to  sneer  at  the  Rock- 
mores." 

"  If  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  have  credentials  in 
order  to  secure  quarters  here,"  said  Lodloe,  "  I  don't 
see  what  is  to  be  done  about  it." 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  quickly ;  "  you 
have  put  yourself  to  a  great  deal  of  trouble  for  me, 
and  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

When  Walter  Lodloe  and  Mr.  Fetter  had  been 
formally  introduced  to  each  other,  the  brow  of  the 
latter  bore  marks  of  increased  trouble  and  uncer 
tainty.  From  the  confidential  aspect  of  the  interview 
between  Mrs.  Cristie  and  the  young  man,  the  landlord 
of  the  inn  had  begun  to  suspect  what  his  wife  had 
suspected,  and  it  galled  his  spirit  to  think  of  putting 
his  usual  test  question  to  this  friend  of  Mrs.  Cristie. 
But  he  was  a  man  of  principle,  and  he  did  not 
flinch. 

"Are  you  from  Philadelphia,  sir,"  he  asked,  "  or  its 
vicinity  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lodloe ;  "  I  am  from  New  York." 

"  A  great  many  Philadelphia  people,"  continued  the 
landlord,  "  or  those  from  its  vicinity,  are  well  known 
in  New  York,  and  in  fact  move  in  leading  circles 


LODLOE  IS  INTRODUCED   TO   STEPHEN   FETTER. 


54  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

there.  Are  you  acquainted,  sir,  with  the  Rockmores 
of  Germantown ! " 

Mrs.  Fetter  now  appeared  in  the  doorway,  her  face 
clouded.  If  Mrs.  Cristie  had  known  the  Rockmores 
she  would  have  hastened  to  give  Mr.  Lodloe  such 
advantages  as  an  acquaintance  in  the  second  degree 
might  afford.  But  she  had  never  met  any  member 
of  that  family,  the  valuable  connection  being  entirely 
on  the  side  of  her  late  husband. 

"  I  did  not  know,"  said  Lodloe,  "  that  you  required 
credentials  of  respectability,  or  I  might  have  brought 
a  lot  of  letters." 

"One  from  Matthew  Vassar  ?"  said  Mrs.  Cristie, 
unable  to  resist  her  opportunity. 

"  "Were  you  acquainted  with  Matthew  Vassar  ? " 
interpolated  Mrs.  Fetter  with  energetic  interest.  "  He 
was  a  great  and  good  man,  and  his  friends  ought  to 
be  good  enough  for  anybody.  Now  put  it  to  yourself, 
Stephen.  Don't  you  think  that  the  friends  of  Mat 
thew  Vassar,  the  founder  of  that  celebrated  college, 
known  all  over  the  world,  a  man  who  even  after  his 
day  and  generation  is  doing  so  much  good,  are 
worthy  to  be  accommodated  in  this  house?" 

Mr.  Fetter  contracted  his  brows,  looked  upon  the 
ground,  and  interlaced  his  fingers  in  front  of  him. 

"The  late  Mr.  Matthew  Vassar,"  said  he,  "was 
truly  a  benefactor  to  his  kind,  and  a  man  worthy  of 
all  respect;  but  when  we  come  to  consider  the  way 
in  which  the  leading  circles  of  society  are  made  up — " 

"  Don't  consider  it  at  all,"  cried  Mrs.  Fetter.  "  If  this 
gentleman  is  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Cristie,  and  is  backed 
up  by  Matthew  Vassar,  you  cannot  turn  him  away. 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  55 

If  you  want  to  get  round  the  Eockmores  you  can 
treat  him  just  as  you  treat  Mr.  Tippengray.  Let  him 
have  the  top  room  of  the  tower,  which,  I  am  sure,  is 
as  pleasant  as  can  be,  especially  in  warm  weather, 
and  then  he  will  have  his  own  stairs  to  himself,  and 
can  come  in  and  go  out  just  as  Mr.  Tippengray  does, 
without  ever  considering  whether  the  Squirrel  Inn  is 
open  or  shut.  As  for  eating,  that 's  a  different  matter. 
People  can  eat  in  a  place  without  living  there.  That 
was  all  settled  when  we  took  Mr.  Tippengray." 

An  expression  of  decided  relief  passed  over  the  face 
of  Mr.  Fetter. 

"  It  is  true,"  he  said,  "  that  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Tip 
pengray  we  made  an  exception  to  our  rule  —  " 

"That's  so,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Fetter;  "and  as  I 
have  heard  that  exceptions  prove  a  rule,  the  more  of 
them  we  have  the  better.  And  if  the  top  room  suits 
Mr.  Lodloe,  I  '11  have  it  made  ready  for  him  without 
waiting  another  minute." 

Mr.  Lodloe  declared  that  any  room  into  which  the 
good  lady  might  choose  to  put  him  would  suit  him 
perfectly ;  and  that  matter  was  settled. 


VIII 


MISS  MAYBERRY 


BOUT  five  minutes  after  Walter  Lod- 
loe  had  departed  for  his  loft  cham 
ber  Miss  Ida  Mayberry  made  her 
appearance  in  the  front  doorway. 
She   had  changed   her  dress,   and 
looked  very  bright  and  fresh. 
"  Is  n't  this  a  pretty  place  ? "  she  said,  approaching 
Mrs.  Cristie.     "  I  think  I  shall  like  it  ever  so  much. 
And  that  is  your  baby  ?     Is  it  a  boy  or  a  girl? " 
"  A  boy,"  was  the  answer. 
"  And  his  name  ?  " 
"  Douglas." 

"I  like  that  sort  of  name,"  remarked  Miss  May- 
berry;  "it  is  sensible  and  distinctive.  And  now  I 
wish  you  would  tell  me  exactly  what  you  want  me 
to  do." 

Mrs.  Cristie  spoke  nervously. 
"Really,"  said  she,  "I  am  afraid  that  there  has  been 
a  mistake.    I  want  an  ordinary  nurse-maid,  and  Mr. 
Lodloe  could  not  have  understood — " 

"Oh,  don't  trouble  yourself  about  that,"  said  the 
other.  "I  understand  perfectly.  You  will  find  me 

56 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  57 

quite  practical.  What  I  don't  know  I  can  learn.  My 
mental  powers  need  a  change  of  channel,  and  if  I  can 
give  them  this  change,  and  at  the  same  time  make 
some  money,  I  am  sure  I  ought  to  be  satisfied." 

"  But  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  "  that  one 
who  is  by  profession  a  teacher  would  scarcely — " 

"Perhaps  not,  years  ago,"  interrupted  the  other; 
"  but  things  are  different  now.  Look  at  all  the  young 
college  fellows  who  work  during  vacation,  and  we  are 
beginning  to  do  it,  too.  Now  you  will  find  me  just 
as  practical  as  anybody.  Nine  months  in  the  year  I 
teach, — moral  and  mental  philosophy  are  my  special 
branches, — and  during  vacation  I  am  not  going  to 
wear  out  my  brain  in  a  summer  school,  nor  empty 
my  purse  by  lounging  about  in  idleness.  Now  what 
could  be  better  than  for  me  to  come  to  a  perfectly 
lovely  place  like  this,  which  I  fancy  more  and  more 
every  minute,  and  take  care  of  a  nice  little  child, 
which,  I  am  sure,  will  be  a  pleasure  in  itself,  and  give 
me  a  lot  of  time  to  read  besides  ?  However,  I  wish 
you  to  understand,  Mrs.  Cristie,  that  I  am  never 
going  to  neglect  the  baby  for  the  sake  of  study  or 
reading." 

"  But  have  you  thought  seriously  of  the  position  in 
which  this  would  place  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  was  the  answer ;  "  but  that  is  a  disad 
vantage  that  has  to  be  accepted,  and  I  don't  mind  it. 
Of  course  I  would  n't  go  to  anybody  and  everybody, 
but  when  a  lady  is  recommended  by  a  friend  of  Mrs. 
Waltham's,  I  would  n't  hesitate  to  make  an  engage 
ment  with  her.  As  to  salary,  I  will  take  whatever 
you  would  pay  to  another  nurse-maid,  and  I  beg  you 


58  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

will  not  make  the  slightest  difference  because  I  am  a 
teacher.  Is  that  bell  for  supper  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie;  "and  perhaps  you  have 
not  yet  reflected  that  my  nurse-maid  must  take  care 
of  my  baby  while  I  am  at  my  meals." 

"  That  is  precisely  and  exactly  what  she  is  going  to 
do.  Go  in  to  your  supper,  and  I  will  push  him  about 
until  you  come  out  again.  Then  you  can  show  me 
how  to  put  him  to  bed." 

"  Is  n't  she  coming  in  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Fetter,  looking 
out  of  the  window  as  she  took  her  seat  at  the  table. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  in  a  tone  which 
was  intended  to  make  an  impression  on  Mr.  Lodloe ; 
"  my  maids  do  not  eat  with  me." 

"  But,  goodnessfulme  ! "  said  Mrs.  Fetter,  "  you 
can't  look  upon  that  sort  of  a  young  woman  as  a  ser 
vant.  Why,  I  put  her  in  one  of  the  best  rooms; 
though  of  course  that  does  n't  make  any  difference  so 
long  as  there  is  nobody  else  to  take  it.  I  wonder  if 
we  could  n't  find  some  sort  of  a  girl  to  take  care  of 
the  baby  while  she  comes  to  her  meals." 

At  this  even  Stephen  Fetter  smiled.  He  was  pleased 
that  one  of  his  guests  should  have  a  servant  of  such 
high  degree.  It  was  like  a  noble  lady  in  waiting  upon 
a  queen. 

"  She  shall  be  entertained,"  he  said,  "  according  to 
her  station.  There  need  be  no  fear  about  that." 

"Upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fetter,  "if  here 
is  n't  Mr.  Tippengray !  Well,  sir,  I  don't  know  when 
I  've  seen  you  on  hand  at  regular  meal-time." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  a  little  out  of  the  common,"  said  the 
Greek  scholar ;  "  but,  after  all,"  he  continued,  looking 


THE  SQUIEEEL  INN.  59 

out  of  the  window,  "  it  appears  I  am  not  the  last  one 
to  come  in."  And  then,  glancing  around  the  table, 
he  asked,  "Am  I  taking  her  place?" 

"Oh,  no,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie;  "that  is  my 
maid." 

Mr.  Tippengray  again  looked  out  of  the  window ; 
then  he  helped  himself  to  butter,  and  said : 

"Have  you  ever  noticed,  Mrs.  Fetter,  that  the  pre 
vailing  style  in  wild  flowers  seems  to  vary  every 
year?  It  changes  just  like  our  fashions,  though  of 
course  there  are  always  a  few  old  fogies  among  blos 
soming  weeds,  as  well  as  among  clothes-wearers." 

The  next  morning  Walter  Lodloe  came  to  Mrs. 
Cristie  on  the  lawn. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  some  time,"  he  said,  "  in 
order  to  tell  you  that  I  am  ready  at  any  moment  to 
repair  the  unpardonable  blunder  that  I  made  yester 
day,  and  to  escort  back  to  New  York  the  very  unsuit 
able  young  woman  whom  I  forced  upon  you." 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  think  of  doing  anything  of  that 
kind,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie;  "the  young  person  is  per 
fectly  satisfied  with  the  situation,  and  intends  to 
stay.  She  gives  me  no  possible  excuse  to  tell  her 
that  she  will  not  suit  me,  for  she  takes  hold  of  things 
exactly  as  if  she  remembered  what  people  did  for  her 
when  she  was  a  baby.  She  does  n't  know  everything, 
but  she  intends  to ;  that  is  plain  enough.  At  present 
she  is  washing  one  of  baby's  frocks  with  my  savon  de 
rose,  because  she  declares  that  the  soap  they  gave  her 
in  the  kitchen  contains  enough  lye  to  corrode  the 
fibers  of  the  fabric." 

"  Then  you  think  she  may  suit  you  ? "  said  Lodloe. 


60  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

"  Oh,  she  will  suit ;  she  intends  to  suit ;  and  I  have 
nothing  to  say  except  that  I  feel  very  much  as  I  sup 
pose  you  would  feel  if  you  had  a  college  president  to 
brush  your  coat." 

"  My  spirits  rise,"  said  Lodloe ;  "  I  begin  to  believe 
that  I  have  not  made  so  much  of  a  blunder  after  all. 
When  you  can  get  it,  there  is  nothing  like  blooded 
service." 

"  But  you  do  not  want  too  much  blood,"  said  Mrs. 
Cristie.  "  I  wish  she  had  not  studied  at  Bryn  Mawr, 
for  I  think  she  pities  me  for  having  graduated  at 
Vassar.  But  still  she  says  I  must  call  her  Ida,  and 
that  gives  me  courage." 

There  then  followed  a  contention  in  which  Lodloe 
was  worsted  about  his  expenses  in  the  nurse-maid 
affair,  and,  this  matter  being  settled,  the  young  man 
declared  that  having  shown  what  an  extremely  un 
desirable  person  he  was  to  work  for  others,  he  must 
go  and  attend  to  his  own  work. 

"What  sort  of  work  do  you  do?"  asked  Mrs. 
Cristie. 

"  I  write,"  he  answered —  "  novels,  stories,  fiction  in 
general." 

"I  know  that,"  said  she,  "  having  read  your  Vassar 
article ;  but  I  do  not  think  I  have  met  with  any  of 
your  avowed  stories." 

"  Madam,"  said  Walter  Lodloe,  "  there  are  so  many 
people  in  this  world,  and  so  few  of  them  have  read 
my  stories,  it  is  no  wonder  that  you  belong  to  the 
larger  class.  But,  satirize  my  Vassar  article  as  you 
please,  I  shall  never  cease  to  be  grateful  to  it  for  my 
tower  room  in  the  Squirrel  Inn." 


IX 


THE   PRESERVATION   OF   LITERATURE 

ALTER  LODLOE  set  out  to  go  to 
his  work,  and  on  his  way  to  the 
little  garden  at  the  foot  of  the 
staircase  which  led  to  his  room  in 
the  tower  he  saw  the  Greek  scholar 
sitting  on  a  bench  outside  his  sum 
mer-house  smoking  a  large  cigar. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tippengray ;  "  do 
you  smoke  ?  " 

The  tone  of  these  words  implied  not  only  a  ques 
tion  but  an  invitation,  in  case  the  young  man  did 
smoke,  to  sit  down  on  that  bench  and  do  it.  Lodloe 
understood  the  force  of  the  remark,  and,  drawing 
out  a  cigar,  took  a  seat  by  Mr.  Tippengray. 

"  Before  I  go  to  my  work,"  said  the  latter,  "  it  is 
my  habit  to  sit  here  and  enjoy  the  scenery  and  a  few 
puffs.  I  suppose  when  you  come  to  a  place  like  this 
you  throw  work  to  the  winds." 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  said  Lodloe ;  "  I  am  a  literary  man,  and 
I  came  here  to  write." 

"  Very  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  other ;  "  very  glad 
that  that  tower  room  is  to  have  the  right  sort  of 
occupant.  If  I  had  not  this  summer-house,  I  should 

61 


62  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

want  that  room ;  but  I  am  afraid,  however,  if  I  had 
it,  I  should  look  out  of  the  window  a  great  deal  and 
translate  a  very  little.'? 

"What  do  you  translate?"  asked  Lodloe,  with 
interest. 

"At  present,"  said  Mr.  Tippengray,  "I  am  engaged 
in  translating  into  Greek  some  of  the  standard  works 
of  our  modern  literature.  There  is  no  knowing  what 
may  happen  to  our  modern  languages.  In  the  course 
of  a  few  centuries  they  may  become  as  useless  to  the 
readers  of  that  day  as  the  English  of  Chaucer  is  to 
the  ordinary  reader  of  our  time;  but  Greek  will 
stand,  sir,  and  the  eooner  we  get  the  good  things  of 
the  present  day  into  solid  Greek  the  better  it  will  be 
for  them  and  the  literature  of  the  future." 

"  "What  work  are  you  translating  ?  "  asked  Lodloe. 

"  I  am  now  at  work  on  the  '  Pickwick  Papers,' "  said 
the  scholar,  "  and  I  assure  you  that  it  is  not  an  easy 
job.  When  I  get  through  with  it  I  shall  translate  it 
back  into  English,  after  the  fashion  of  Sir  William 
Jones — the  only  way  to  do  that  sort  of  thing.  Same 
as  a  telegraphic  message — if  it  is  n't  repeated,  you 
can't  depend  on  it.  If  I  then  find  that  my  English  is 
like  that  of  Dickens,  I  shall  feel  greatly  encouraged, 
and  probably  shall  take  up  the  works  of  Thackeray." 

Walter  Lodloe  was  somewhat  stunned  at  this 
announcement,  and  he  involuntarily  glanced  at  the 
gray  streaks  in  the  locks  of  the  Greek  scholar.  The 
latter  perceived  the  glance,  and,  knocking  the  ashes 
from  his  cigar,  remarked : 

"Did  you  ever  notice,  sir,  that  an  ordinary  robin 
is  perfectly  aware  that  while  squirrels  and  cats  are 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  63 

able  to  ascend  the  perpendicular  trunk  of  a  tree,  they 
cannot  climb  the  painted  pillar  of  a  piazza ;  and  con 
sequently  it  is  perfectly  safe  to  build  a  nest  at  the  top 
of  such  a  pillar  ? " 

Lodloe  had  noticed  this,  and  a  good  many  other 
intelligent  traits  of  animals,  and  the  two  conversed  on 
this  interesting  subject  until  the  sun  came  round  to 
the  bench  on  which  they  were  sitting,  when  they 
moved  to  a  shady  spot  and  continued  the  conversation. 

At  last  Lodloe  arose.  "  It  must  be  nearly  dinner 
time,"  said  he.  "I  think  I  shall  take  a  walk  this 
afternoon,  and  see  some  of  the  country." 

"  You  ought  to  do  it,"  said  Mr.  Tippengray.  "  It  is 
a  beautiful  country.  If  you  like  I  will  go  with  you. 
I  'm  not  a  bad  guide ;  I  know  every  road,  path,  and 
short  cut." 

Walter  Lodloe  expressed  his  satisfaction  at  the 
proposed  companionship,  and  suggested  that  the  first 
walk  be  to  the  village  of  Lethbury,  peeping  up  among 
the  trees  in  the  distance. 

"  Lethbury ! "  exclaimed  the  Greek  scholar.  "  Well, 
sir,  if  it  's  all  the  same  to  you,  I  prefer  walking  in 
any  direction  to  that  of  Lethbury.  It  's  a  good 
enough  place,  but  to-day  I  don't  feel  drawn  to  it." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Lodloe ;  "we  will  walk  anywhere 
but  in  the  direction  of  Lethbury." 

About  half  an  hour  afterward,  Mrs.  Fetter,  having 
finished  carving  a  pair  of  fowls,  paused  for  a  moment's 
rest  in  serving  the  little  company,  and  looked  out 
of  the  dining-room  window. 

"  Upon  my  word !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  this  is  too  bad. 
When  other  boarders  came,  I  thought  Mr.  Tippengray 


64  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

would  begin  to  behave  like  other  Christians,  and  come 
to  his  meals  at  the  proper  time.  At  supper  last 
night  and  breakfast  this  morning  he  was  at  the  table 
as  soon  as  anybody,  and  I  was  beginning  to  feel  real 
heartened  up,  as  if  things  were  going  to  run  on  regu 
lar  and  proper.  But  now  look  at  that?  Is  n't  that 
enough  to  make  a  housekeeper  give  up  in  despair  ?  " 

Mrs.  Cristie,  Lodloe,  and  Mr.  Fetter  all  looked  out 
of  the  window,  and  beheld  the  Greek  scholar  engaged 
in  pushing  the  baby  carriage  backward  and  forward 
under  the  shade  of  a  large  tree ;  while,  on  a  seat  near 
by,  the  maid  Ida  sat  reading  a  book.  Now  passing 
nearer,  Mr.  Tippengray  stopped,  and  with  sparkling 
eyes  spoke  to  her.  Then  she  looked  up,  and  with 
sparkling  eyes  answered  him.  Then  together,  with 
sparkling  eyes,  they  conversed  for  a  few  minutes, 
evidently  about  the  book.  After  a  few  more  turns  of 
the  carriage  Mr.  Tippengray  returned  to  the  maid; 
the  sparkling  eyes  were  raised  again  from  the  book, 
and  the  scene  was  repeated. 

"  He  has  lent  her  a  book,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie.  "  She 
did  not  take  that  one  out  with  her." 

"There  's  a  time ^f or  books,  and  there  's  a  time  for 
meals,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter.  "  Why  did  n't  he  keep  his 
book  until  he  had  eaten  his  dinner  ? " 

"  I  think  Mr.  Tippengray  must  be  something  of  a 
philosopher,"  said  Lodloe,  "and  that  he  prefers  to 
take  his  books  to  a  pretty  maid  when  other  people  are 
at  dinner." 

"  My  wife  does  not  altogether  understand  the  ways 
of  scholars,"  said  Mr.  Fetter.  "A  gentleman  giving 
most  of  his  time  to  Greek  cannot  be  expected  to 


66  THE   SQUIEEEL  INN. 

give  much  of  his  mind  to  the  passage  of  modern 
times." 

"  If  he  gives  some  of  his  time  to  the  passage  of  a 
good  dinner  into  cold  victuals  it  would  help  his  dys 
pepsia.  But  I  suppose  he  will  come  when  he  is 
ready,  and  all  I  have  to  say  is  that  I  would  like  to 
see  Calthea  Rose  if  she  could  catch  sight  of  them 
this  minute." 

Mr.  Fetter  sat  at  the  end  of  the  table  where  he  had 
a  view  of  his  flocks  and  his  herds  in  the  pasture  below. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  if  that  estimable  young  woman 
wants  to  catch  a  sight  of  them,  all  she  has  to  do  is  to 
step  along  lively,  for  at  this  present  moment  she  is 
walking  over  the  field-path  straight  to  this  house,  and 
what  is  more,  she  is  wearing  her  bonnet  and  carrying 
a  parasol." 

"Bonnet  and  parasol!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Fetter. 
"  Fire  in  the  mountains,  run,  boys,  run  !  Debby,  step 
out  as  quick  as  you  can  to  Mr.  Tippengray,  and  you 
need  n't  say  anything  but  just  ask  if  Miss  Calthea 
Rose  told  him  she  was  coming  to  dinner  to-day,  and 
tell  him  she  's  coming  over  the  field." 

In  about  one  minute  the  Greek  scholar  was  in  his 
place  at  the  table  and  beginning  his  meal. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Tippengray,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter,  "  I  don't 
suppose  you  feel  any  coals  of  fire  on  your  head  at  this 
present  moment." 

"  Madame,"  said  the  scholar,  "  did  you  ever  notice 
that  when  squirrels  strip  the  bark  from  the  limbs  of 
trees  they  are  very  apt  to  despoil  those  branches 
which  project  in  such  a  manner  as  to  interfere  with 
a  view!" 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  67 

"  No,  I  did  n't,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter ;  "  and  I  don't  be- 
•lieve  they  do  it,  either.  Debby,  put  a  knife,  fork,  and 
napkin  for  Calthea  Rose.  If  she  is  coming  to  dinner 
it  is  just  as  well  to  let  her  think  that  nobody  forgot 
to  bring  the  message  she  sent.  She  never  comes  to 
meals  without  sending  word  beforehand." 

But  Miss  Calthea  had  not  come  to  dinner.  She  sent 
word  by  Debby,  who  met  her  at  the  front  door,  that 
she  had  had  her  dinner,  and  that  she  would  wait  for 
the  family  on  the  piazza. 

"  Bonnet  and  parasol,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter.  "  She  has 
come  to  make  a  call,  and  it 's  on  you,  Mrs.  Cristie. 
Don't  eat  too  fast,  Mr.  Tippengray ;  she  's  good  for 
the  rest  of  the  afternoon." 


ROSE  VERSUS  MAYBERRY 


3JISS  CALTHEA  ROSE  was  a  person 
of  good  height,  originally  slender, 
but  gathering  an  appreciable  plump 
ness  as  the  years  went  on,  and  with 
good  taste  in  dress  when  she  chose 
to  exert  it,  which  on  the  present 
occasion  she  did.  She  possessed  acute  perceptions 
and  a  decided  method  of  action.  But  whether  or  not 
the  relation  of  her  perceptions  to  her  actions  was 
always  influenced  by  good  judgment  was  a  question 
with  her  neighbors.  It  never  was,  however,  a  ques 
tion  with  herself. 

When  everybody  but  Mr.  Tippengray  had  finished 
dinner,  and  he  had  desired  the  others  not  to  wait  for 
him  as  he  would  probably  be  occupied  some  time 
longer,  the  host  and  hostess  went  out  to  greet  the 
visitor,  followed  by  Mrs.  Cristie  and  Lodloe.  When 
Miss  Calthea  Rose  turned  to  greet  the  latter  lady  her 
expression  was  cold,  not  to  say  hard ;  but  when  her 
eyes  fell  upon  the  gentleman  by  the  side  of  the  young 
widow,  a  softening  warmth  spread  over  her  face,  and 
she  came  forward  with  outstretched  hands. 


THE  SQUIEEEL  INN.  69 

"  Did  you  see  that  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Fetter,  aside  to  her 
husband.  "  Jealous  as  she  can  be  of  Mrs.  Cristie  till 
she  sees  that  she  's  got  a  young  man  of  her  own ; 
then  as  sweet  as  sugar." 

When  Miss  Calthea  Rose  set  about  to  be  as  sweet 
as  sugar,  it  was  very  good  sugar  that  she  took  for 
her  model.  She  liked  to  talk,  but  was  not  a  mistress 
of  words,  and  although  her  remarks  were  not  always 
to  the  point,  they  were  generally  pointed.  At  last 
Mr.  Tippengray  came  out  on  the  piazza.  He  walked 
slowly,  and  he  did  not  wear  his  usual  ease  of  demeanor; 
but  nothing  could  have  been  more  cordial  and  reassur 
ing  than  the  greeting  given  him  by  Miss  Calthea.  If 
this  were  intended  in  any  way  to  inspirit  him,  it  failed 
of  its  effect.  The  Greek  scholar  stood  apart,  and  did 
not  look  like  a  man  who  had  made  up  his  mind  as  to 
what  he  was  going  to  do  next ;  but  Miss  Calthea  took 
no  notice  of  his  unusual  demeanor.  She  talked  with 
great  graciousness  to  the  company  in  general,  and 
frequently  directed  remarks  to  Mr.  Tippengray  which 
indicated  a  high  degree  of  good  comradeship. 

Under  this  general  warmth  Mr.  Tippengray  was 
forced  to  melt  a  little,  and  in  a  manner  to  accept  the 
position  thus  publicly  tendered  him;  but  suddenly 
the  maid  Ida  popped  up  the  steps  of  the  piazza.  She 
had  an  open  book  in  her  hand,  and  she  went  directly 
and  quickly  to  Mr.  Tippengray.  She  held  the  book 
up  towards  him,  and  put  her  finger  on  a  page. 

"You  were  just  here,"  she  said,  "when  you  had  to 
go  to  your  dinner.  Now  if  you  will  finish  the  expla 
nation  I  can  go  on  nicely.  You  don't  know  how 
you  help  me.  Every  word  you  say  seems  to  take 


70  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

root " ;  and  she  looked  up  into  his  face  with  spark 
ling  eyes. 

But  not  a  sparkle  sparkled  from  the  eyes  of  the 
Greek  scholar.  He  stood  silently  looking  at  the  book, 
his  face  a  little  flushed,  his  eyes  blinking  as  if  the 
sunlight  were  too  strong  for  him. 

"  Suppose  you  walk  out  on  the  lawn  with  me/'  said 
the  nurse-maid,  "  and  then  we  shall  not  disturb  the 
others.  I  will  not  keep  you  more  than  five  minutes." 

She  went  down  the  steps  of  the  piazza,  and  Mr. 
Tippengray,  having  apparently  lost  the  power  of 
making  up  his  mind  what  he  should  do,  did  what  she 
wanted  him  to  do,  and  followed  her.  They  did  not 
walk  very  far,  but  stood  barely  out  of  hearing  of  the 
persons  on  the  piazza ;  her  eyes  sparkling  up  into  his 
face,  as  his  helpful  words  took  root  in  her  under 
standing. 

At  the  instant  of  the  appearance  of  the  maid  Ida 
Miss  Calthea  Rose  stopped  talking.  Her  subsequent 
glances  towards  this  young  woman  and  Mr.  Tippen 
gray  might  have  made  one  think  of  steel  chilled  to 
zero.  Mrs.  Cristie  looked  at  Lodloe,  and  he  at  her, 
and  both  slightly  smiled.  "  She  understands  that  sort 
of  thing,"  he  thought,  and  "  He  understands  that  sort 
of  thing,"  she  thought. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Fetter  glanced  at  her  two 
guests  and  saw  the  smile  which  passed  between  them. 
She  understood  that  sort  of  thing. 

"Who  is  that  ?"  said  Miss  Calthea  Rose,  presently. 

Mrs.  Cristie,  full  of  the  humor  of  the  situation,  has 
tened  to  answer. 

"  It  is  my  nurse-maid,"  she  said,  "  Ida  Mayberry." 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  71 

"A  child's  nurse  !"  ejaculated  Miss  Calthea  Rose. 

"  Yes/'  said  Mrs.  Cristie ;  "  that  is  what  she  is." 

"  I  expect,"  said  Mrs.  Pester,  "  that  he  is  teaching 
her  Greek,  and  of  course  it 's  hard  for  her  at  the  be 
ginning.  Mr.  Tippengray  's  such  a  kind  man  that 
he  would  do  anything  for  anybody,  so  far  as  he  could ; 
but  I  must  admit  that  I  can't  see  how  Greek  can  help 
anybody  to  nurse  children,  unless  there  is  some  book 
on  the  subject  in  that  language." 

"  Greek  !  "  scornfully  ejaculated  Miss  Calthea,  and, 
turning  her  steely  glance  from  the  couple  on  the 
lawn,  she  began  to  talk  to  Mr.  Fetter  about  one  of  his 
cows  which  had  broken  its  leg. 

Ida  Mayberry  was  a  young  woman  who  meant  what 
she  said,  and  in  less  than  five  minutes,  with  a  spark 
ling  glance  of  thanks,  she  released  Mr.  Tippengray. 
That  gentleman  returned  to  the  piazza,  but  his  ap 
pearance  elicited  no  more  attention  from  the  lady  who 
had  so  recently  brought  into  view  their  friendly  re 
lationship  than  if  he  had  been  the  head  of  a  nail  in 
the  floor  beneath  her.  From  Mr.  Fetter  she  turned 
to  speak  to  some  of  the  others,  and  if  her  words  and 
manner  did  not  make  Mr.  Tippengray  understand 
that,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned,  he  had  ceased  to 
exist,  her  success  was  not  what  she  expected  it 
to  be. 

Although  he  had  been  amused  and  interested,  Wal 
ter  Lodloe  now  thought  that  he  had  had  enough  of 
Miss  Calthea  Rose,  and  wandered  away  to  the  little 
garden  at  the  foot  of  his  staircase.  He  had  not 
reached  it  before  he  was  joined  by  Mr.  Tippengray. 

"  Look  here,"  said  the  latter,  with  something  of  his 

6 


72  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

usual  briskness  ;  "  if  you  are  still  in  the  humor,  sup 
pose  we  walk  over  to  Lethbury." 

Lodloe  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "  I  thought  you 
did  n't  want  to  go  there,"  he  said. 

"  I  've  changed  my  mind/'  replied  the  other.  "  I 
think  this  is  a  very  good  day  to  go  to  Lethbury.  It 
is  a  pretty  village,  and  you  ought  to  have  some  one 
with  you  to  show  you  its  best  points." 

As  soon  as  she  thought  etiquette  would  permit,  Mrs. 
Cristie  withdrew,  pleading  the  interests  of  her  baby 
as  an  excuse. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  said  Miss  Calthea  Rose, 
the  moment  the  young  mother  was  out  of  hearing, 
"  that  she  leaves  her  baby  in  the  care  of  that  thing 
with  a  book  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  was  the  answer ;  "  Mrs.  Cristie  tells  me 
she  is  a  very  good  nurse-maid." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Calthea,  "  babies  are  trouble 
some,  and  it 's  often  convenient  to  get  rid  of  them, 
but  I  must  say  that  I  never  heard  of  this  new  style  of 
infanticide.  I  suppose  there  is  n't  any  law  against 
it  yet." 

Mr.  Fetter  looked  uneasy.  He  did  not  like  fault 
found  with  Mrs.  Cristie,  who  was  a  great  favorite 
with  him. 

"I  am  inclined  to  think,  Miss  Calthea,"  he  said, 
"  that  you  judge  that  young  person  too  harshly.  I 
have  formed  a  very  good  opinion  of  her.  Not  only 
does  she  attend  to  her  duties,  but  she  has  a  good 
mind.  It  may  not  be  a  fine  mind,  but  it  is  a  good  mind. 
Her  desire  to  learn  from  Mr.  Tippengray  is  a  great 
point  in  her  favor." 


THE   SQUIEEEL  INN.  73 

Here  Mrs.  Fetter,  who  sat  near  her  husband,  pressed 
violently  upon  his  foot ;  but  she  was  too  late,  the 
words  had  been  said.  Mrs.  Fetter  prepared  herself 
for  a  blaze,  but  none  came.  ,  There  was  a  momentary 
flash  in  the  Calthean  eyes,  and  then  the  lids  came 
down  and  shut  out  everything  but  a  line  of  steely 
light.  Then  she  gazed  out  over  the  landscape,  and 
presently  again  turned  her  face  towards  her  compan 
ions,  with  nothing  more  upon  it  than  her  usual 
expression  when  in  a  bad  humor. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said  abruptly,  "  that  Lanigan 
Beam  is  coming  back  ?  " 

"  Goodness  gracious ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fetter,  "  I 
thought  he  was  settled  in  Patagonia." 

"  It  was  not  Patagonia,"  said  Mr.  Fetter ;  "  it  was 
Nicaragua." 

"  Well,  I  knew  it  was  the  little  end  of  some  place," 
said  she ;  "  and  now  he 's  coming  back.  Well,  that  is 
unfortunate." 

"  Unfortunate ! "  said  Miss  Calthea ;  "  it 's  criminal. 
There  ought  to  be  a  law  against  such  things." 

Again  the  host  of  the  Squirrel  Inn  moved  uneasily 
on  his  chair  and  crossed  and  recrossed  his  legs.  He 
liked  Lanigan  Beam. 

"  I  cannot  see,"  he  said,  "  why  it  is  wrong  for  a 
man  to  return  to  the  place  where  he  was  born." 

"  Born  !  "  scornfully  exclaimed  Miss  Calthea ;  "  it 's 
the  greatest  pity  that  there  is  any  place  where  he  was 
born  ;  but  there  's  no  use  talking  about  him.  He  has 
written  to  them  at  the  hotel  at  Lethbury  that  he  will 
be  there  the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  he  wants  them 
to  have  a  room  ready  for  him.  If  he  'd  asked  them  to 


74  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

have  a  grave  ready  for  him  it  would  have  been  much 
more  considerate." 

Mr.  Fetter  now  rose  to  his  feet ;  his  manner  was 
very  dignified. 

"  Excuse  me,  Miss  Calthea,"  he  said,  "  but  I  must 
go  and  look  after  my  men  in  the  cornfield." 

Miss  Calthea  Rose  sat  up  very  straight  in  her  chair. 

"  If  there  's  anything  you  want  to  do,  Mrs.  Fetter, 
I  beg  you  won't  let  me  keep  you." 

"  Now,  Calthea,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter,  "  don't  work 
yourself  into  such  a  terrible  stew.  You  know  Stephen 
does  n't  like  to  have  Lanigan  pitched  into ;  I  'm  sorry 
for  even  what  I  said.  But  that  about  his  grave  was 
enough  to  rouse  a  saint." 

Miss  Calthea  was  on  the  point  of  retorting  that 
that  was  something  which  Stephen  Fetter  was  not, 
by  any  means,  but  she  restrained  herself.  If  she 
quarreled  with  the  Fetters,  and  cut  herself  off  from 
visiting  the  Squirrel  Inn,  a  great  part  of  the  pleasure 
of  her  life  would  be  gone. 

"  "Well,"  she  said,  "  we  all  know  Lanigan  Beam,  and 
if  there  's  anybody  who  wants  the  peace  of  the  com 
munity  to  vanish  entirely  out  of  sight,  the  responsi 
bility  's  on  him,  and  not  on  me." 

"Mrs.  Fetter,"  said  Ida  Mayberry,  appearing  so 
suddenly  before  that  good  woman  that  she  seemed  to 
have  dropped  through  the  roof  of  the  piazza,  "  do  you 
know  where  Mr.  Tippengray  is  f  I  Ve  been  looking 
all  over  for  him,  and  can't  find  him.  He  is  n't  in  his 
little  house,  for  I  knocked  at  the  door." 

"  Does  Mrs.  Cristie  want  him  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Fetter, 
making  this  wild  grasp  at  a  straw. 


THE   SQUIEEEL  INN.  75 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Ida.  "  It  is  I  who  want  him.  There  's 
a  Greek  sentence  in  this  book  he  lent  me  which  I  am 
sure  I  have  not  translated  properly ;  and  as  the  baby 
is  asleep  now,  there  could  n't  be  a  better  time  for  him 
to  help  me,  if  only  I  could  find  him." 

Self-restraint  was  no  longer  possible  with  Miss 
Calthea  Rose.  A  red  blaze  shot  into  her  face,  and 
without  deigning  to  look  in  the  direction  of  the 
creature  who  had  just  spoken,  she  said  in  the  sharpest 
tones  of  contemptuous  anger : 

"Greek  to  a  child's  nurse!  I  expect  next  he  '11 
teach  French  to  the  pigs." 

The  maid  Ida  lifted  up  her  eyes  from  the  book  and 
fixed  them  on  Miss  Calthea. 

"  The  best  thing  he  could  do,"  she  quietly  remarked, 
"  would  be  to  teach  the  old  hens  good  manners  "j  and 
then  she  walked  away  with  her  book. 

Miss  Calthea  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  looked  as  if 
she  was  going  to  do  something ;  but  there  was  noth 
ing  to  do,  and  she  sat  down  again.  Her  brow  was 
dark,  her  eyes  flashed,  and  her  lips  were  parted,  as  if 
she  was  about  to  say  something ;  but  there  was  noth 
ing  to  say,  and  she  sat  silent,  breathing  hard.  It  was 
bad  enough  to  be  as  jealous  as  Miss  Calthea  was  at 
that  moment,  but  to  be  so  flagrantly  insulted  by  the 
object  of  her  jealousy  created  in  her  a  rage  that  could 
not  be  expressed  in  words.  It  was  fortunate  that 
she  did  not  look  at  Mrs.  Fetter,  for  that  good  lady 
was  doing  her  best  to  keep  from  laughing. 

"  Well ! "  she  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  she  could  speak 
composedly,  "this  is  too  much.  I  think  I  must 
speak  to  Mrs.  Cristie  about  this.  Of  course  she  can't 


76 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 


"  TEACH  THE  OLD  HENS  GOOD  MANNERS." 


prevent  the  young  woman  from  answering  back,  but 
I  think  I  can  make  her  see  that  it  is  n't  seemly  and 
becoming  for  nurse-maids  to  be  associating  with 
boarders  in  this  way." 

"  If  you  take  my  advice,  Susan  Fetter,"  said  Miss 
Calthea,  in  a  voice  thickened  by  her  emotions,  "  you 
will  keep  your  mouth  shut  on  that  subject.  If  your 
boarders  choose  to  associate  with  servants,  let  them 
alone.  It  simply  shows  what  sort  of  people  they  are." 

Calthea  Rose  did  not  like  to  hear  herself  speak  in  a 
voice  which  might  show  how  she  was  feeling,  and  as 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  77 

there  was  no  use  of  staying  there  if  she  could  not 
talk,  she  rose  to  leave,  and,  in  spite  of  Mrs.  Fetter's 
hospitable  entreaty  to  make  a  longer  stay,  she  de 
parted. 

When  her  visitor  was  well  out  of  sight,  Mrs.  Pet- 
ter  allowed  herself  to  lean  back  in  her  chair  and  laugh 
quietly. 

"Leave  them  alone  indeed,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  You  may  want  me  to  do  it,  but  I  know  well  enough 
that  you  are  not  going  to  leave  them  alone,  Miss  Cal- 
thea  Rose,  and  I  can't  say  that  I  wonder  at  your  state 
of  mind,  for  it  seems  to  me  that  this  is  your  last 
chance.  If  you  don't  get  Mr.  Tippengray,  I  can't  see 
where  you  are  going  to  find  another  man  properly 
older  than  you  are." 


XI 


LANIGAN   BEAM 

HAT  evening  about  eleven  o'clock 
Walter  Lodloe  was  sitting  in  his 
room  in  the  tower,  his  feet  upon 
the  sill  of  the  large  window  which 
looked  out  over  the  valley.  He  had 
come  up  to  his  room  an  hour  or  two 
before,  determined  not  to  allow  the  whole  day  to  pass 
without  his  having  done  any  work ;  and  now,  having 
written  several  pages  of  the  story  on  which  he  was 
engaged,  he  was  enjoying  the  approbation  of  his 
conscience,  the  flavor  of  a  good  cigar,  and  the  beau 
tiful  moonlighted  scene  which  he  beheld  from  his 
window. 

More  than  this,  he  was  thinking  over  the  events  of 
the  day  with  a  good  deal  of  interest  and  amusement, 
particularly  of  his  afternoon  walk  with  Mr.  Tippen- 
gray.  He  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  that  gentle 
man,  who,  without  making  any  direct  confidences,  had 
given  him  a  very  fair  idea  of  his  relations  with  Calthea 
Rose.  It  was  plain  enough  that  he  liked  that  very 
estimable  person,  and  that  he  had  passed  many  pleas 
ant  hours  in  her  society,  but  that  he  did  not  at  all 

78 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  79 

agree  with  what  he  called  her  bigoted  notions  in 
regard  to  proprietorship  in  fellow-beings. 

On  the  other  hand,  Lodloe  was  greatly  delighted 
with  Miss  Calthea's  manner  of  showing  her  state  of 
mind.  Quite  unexpectedly  they  had  met  her  in  Leth- 
bury, — to  which  village  Mr.  Tippengray  had  not 
thought  she  would  return  so  soon, —  and  Lodloe  al 
most  laughed  as  he  called  to  mind  the  beaming  and 
even  genial  recognition  that  she  gave  to  him,  and 
which,  at  the  same  time,  included  effacement  and  ex 
tinction  of  his  companion  to  the  extent  of  being  an 
admirable  piece  of  dramatic  art.  The  effect  upon 
Lodloe  had  been  such,  that  when  the  lady  had  passed 
he  involuntarily  turned  to  see  if  the  Greek  scholar  had 
not  slipped  away  just  before  the  moment  of  meeting. 

"  When  a  woman  tries  so  hard  to  show  how  little 
she  thinks  of  a  man,"  thought  Lodloe,  "  it  is  a  proof 
that  she  thinks  a  great  deal  of  him,  and  I  shall  not  be 
surprised — "  Just  then  there  came  a  tap  at  the  win 
dow  opposite  the  one  at  which  he  was  sitting. 

Now  when  a  man  in  the  upper  room  of  a  fairly  tall 
tower,  access  to  which  is  gained  by  a  covered  stair 
case  the  door  at  the  bottom  of  which  he  knows  he  has 
locked,  hears  a  tap  at  the  window,  he  is  likely  to  be 
startled.  Lodloe  was  so  startled  that  his  chair  nearly 
tipped  over  backward.  Turning  quickly,  he  saw  a 
man's  head  and  shoulders  at  the  opposite  window, 
the  sash  of  which  was  raised.  With  an  exclamation, 
Lodloe  sprang  to  his  feet.  His  lamp  had  been  turned 
down  in  order  that  he  might  better  enjoy  the  moon 
light,  but  he  could  plainly  see  the  man  at  the  window, 
who  now  spoke : 


80 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 


"  Hold  hard,"  said  he ;  "  don't  get  excited.  There  's 
nothing  out  of  the  way.  My  name  is  Beam  — Lani- 
gan  Beam.  I  tapped  because  I  thought  if  I  spoke 
first  you  might  jump  out  of  ihe  window,  being  turned 
in  that  direction.  May  I  come  in  ? " 


DON'T   GET   EXCITED." 


Lodloe  made  no  answer  ;  his  mind  did  not  compre 
hend  the  situation  ;  he  went  to  the  window  and  looked 
out.  The  man  was  standing  on  the  sharp  ridge  of  a  roof 
which  stretched  from  the  tower  to  the  rear  portion  of 
the  building.  By  reaching  upward  he  was  able  to 
look  into  the  window. 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  81 

"  Give  me  a  hand,"  said  the  man,  "  and  we  '11  con 
sider  matters  inside.  This  is  a  mighty  ticklish  place 
to  stand  on." 

Lodloe  had  heard  a  good  deal  that  evening  about 
Lanigan  Beam,  and  although  he  was  amazed  at  the 
appearance  of  that  individual  at  this  time  and  place, 
he  was  ready  and  willing  to  make  his  acquaintance. 
Bracing  himself  against  the  window-frame,  he  reached 
out  his  hand,  and  in  a  few  moments  Mr.  Beam  had 
scrambled  into  the  room.  Lodloe  turned  up  the  wick 
of  his  lamp,  and  by  the  bright  light  he  looked  at  his 
visitor. 

He  saw  a  man  rather  long  as  to  legs,  and  thin  as  to 
face,  and  dressed  in  an  easy-fitting  suit  of  summer 
clothes. 

"  Take  a  seat,"  said  Lodloe,  "  and  tell  me  to  what  I 
owe  this  call." 

"  To  your  lamp,"  said  the  other,  taking  a  chair ; 
"  it  was  n't  burning  very  brightly,  but  still  it  was  a 
light,  and  the  only  one  about.  I  was  on  my  way  to 
Lethbury,  but  I  could  n't  get  any  sort  of  conveyance 
at  Romney,  so  I  footed  it,  thinking  I  would  like  a 
moonlight  walk.  But  by  the  time  I  got  to  the  squirrel 
on  the  post  I  thought  I  would  turn  in  here  and  stay 
with  Stephen  Fetter  for  the  night  $  but  the  house  was 
all  shut  up  and  dark  except  this  room,  and  as  I  knew 
that  if  I  woke  Stephen  out  of  a  sound  sleep  he  'd 
bang  me  over  the  head  with  his  everlasting  Rockmores 
of  Germantown,  I  determined  to  take  a  night's  lodging 
without  saying  a  word  to  him  about  it. 

"  There  's  a  room  back  here  that  you  can  only  get 
into  by  a  ladder  put  up  on  the  outside.  I  knew  all 


82  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

about  it,  so  I  went  to  the  ice-house  and  got  a  ladder 
and  climbed  into  the  room.  I  put  my  valise  under 
my  head,  and  prepared  to  take  a  good  sleep  on  the 
floor,  but  in  three  minutes  I  found  the  place  was  full 
of  wasps.  I  could  n't  stay  there,  you  know,  and  I 
was  just  getting  ready  to  go  down  the  ladder  again 
when  I  happened  to  look  out  of  a  window  that  opened 
on  the  roof,  and  saw  you  in  here.  I  could  see  only 
the  back  of  your  head,  but  although  it  was  pretty 
well  lighted,  I  could  n't  judge  very  well  by  that  what 
sort  of  a  person  you  were.  But  I  saw  you  were 
smoking,  and  it  struck  me  that  a  man  who  smokes 
is  generally  a  pretty  good  fellow,  and  so  I  came 
over." 

"  Glad  to  see  you,"  said  Lodloe ;  "  and  what  can  I 
do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,"  said  Beam,  "  have  you 
any  liquid  ammonia  ?  The  first  notice  I  had  of  the 
wasps  in  that  room  was  this  sting  on  my  finger." 

Lodloe  was  sorry  that  he  did  not  possess  anything 
of  the  kind. 

"  If  I  'm  not  mistaken,"  said  the  visitor,  "  there  is  a 
bottle  of  it  on  the  top  shelf  of  that  closet.  I  have 
frequently  occupied  this  room,  and  I  remember  put 
ting  some  there  myself.  May  I  look  for  it  ?  " 

Permission  being  given,  Mr.  Beam  speedily  found 
the  bottle,  and  assuaged  the  pains  of  his  sting. 

"  Now  then,"  said  he,  resuming  his  seat,  "  the  next 
favor  I  '11  ask  will  be  to  allow  me  to  fill  my  pipe,  and 
put  to  you  a  few  questions  as  to  the  way  the  land  lies 
about  here  at  present.  I  Ve  been  away  for  a  year 
and  a  half,  and  don't  know  what 's  going  on,  or  who 's 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 


83 


dead  or  alive.  By  the  way,  have  you  happened  to 
hear  anybody  speak  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  Lodloe,  laughing.  "  The 
greater  part  of  this  evening  was  occupied  in  a  dis 
cussion  on  your  life,  adventures,  moral  character, 
disposition,  and  mental  bias.  There  may  have  been 
some  other  points  touched  upon,  but  I  don't  recall 
them  just  now." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Lanigan  Beam,  putting  his 
arms  on  the  table,  and  leaning  forward,  "this  is 
interesting.  Who  discussed  me  ? " 


"HAVE  YOU  HAPPENED  TO  HEAR  ANYBODY  SPEAK  OF  ME?" 


84  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fetter  had  the  most  to  say," 
answered  Lodloe. 

"  I  'm  glad  to  hear  they  're  alive,"  interpolated  the 
other. 

"  And  Mrs.  Cristie,  who  knew  you  when  her  hus 
band  was  alive." 

"  Dead,  is  he  ?  "  said  Beam.  "  Very  sorry  to  hear 
that.  A  mighty  pretty  woman  is  Mrs.  Cristie." 

"  Miss  Calthea  Rose  was  not  present,"  continued 
Lodloe,  "  but  her  opinions  were  quoted  very  freely 
by  the  others,  and  sometimes  combated." 

"  Calthea  alive,  is  she  ?"  ejaculated  Beam.  "  Well, 
well,  I  ought  to  be  glad  to  hear  it,  and  I  suppose  1 
am.  Anybody  else  ? " 

"  Yes ;  there  was  Mr.  Tippengray,  one  of  the  guests 
at  the  inn.  There  are  only  three  of  us  in  all.  He  had 
heard  a  great  deal  about  you  from  Miss  Rose.  She 
seems  to  have  been  very  communicative  to  him." 

"  Chums,  are  they  ?  "  cried  Lanigan  Beam.  "  Well, 
bless  his  soul,  I  say,  whatever  sort  of  man  he  is.  Now 
what  did  they  say  about  me  ?  " 

"  It 's  my  opinion,"  answered  Lodloe,  smiling,  "  that 
it  is  a  very  unsafe  thing  to  tell  a  man  what  other 
people  say  about  him." 

Lanigan  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  stood,  pipe  in  hand, 
before  the  other.  "Now,  sir,"  said  he,  "I  have  not 
heard  your  name  yet  —  Lodloe;  thank  you.  Now, 
Mr.  Lodloe,  I  have  before  me  the  greatest  chance  of 
my  life.  It  almost  never  happens  that  a  man  has  an 
opportunity  of  hearing  a  straightforward  account  of 
what  people  say  about  him.  Now  if  you  want  to  do 
the  biggest  kind  of  favor  to  a  fellow-being,  just  tell 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  85 

me  what  you  heard  of  me  to-night.  You  are  a  perfect 
stranger  to  me,  and  you  can  speak  out  plainly  about 
it  without  having  the  least  feeling  one  way  or  the 
other." 

Lodloe  looked  at  him. 

"  Here 's  a  chance,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  seldom 
comes  to  a  man ;  an  opportunity  to  tell  a  man  exactly 
what  his  friends  and  neighbors  think  about  him.  It 's 
a  rare  experience,  and  I  like  it.  I  '11  do  it." 

"  Very  good,"  said  he,  aloud ;  "  if  you  want  to  see 
yourself  as  others  see  you,  I  '11  turn  on  the  lights  and 
act  as  showman ;  but  remember  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  painting.  I  have  no  prejudices  one  way  or 
the  other." 

"  All  right,"  said  Lanigan,  reseating  himself ;  "  let 
the  panorama  move." 

"About  the  first  thing  I  was  told,"  said  Lodloe, 
"  was  that  you  were  a  good-hearted  fellow,  but  the 
fact  that  your  father  was  an  Irishman  had  deprived 
your  character  of  ballast." 

"Umph,"  said  Lanigan;  "there  are  some  people 
who  are  all  ballast.  I  don't  mind  that." 

"  And  then  I  heard  that,  although  you  were  a  wild 
and  irresponsible  youth,  people  generally  expected 
that  as  you  grew  older  you  would  gradually  accumu 
late  ballast ;  but  instead  of  that  you  had  steadily  gone 
downhill  from  the  moment  of  your  birth." 

"Now,  then,"  said  Lanigan,  "I  suppose  I  have  no 
right  to  ask  you,  but  I  would  like  very  much  to  know 
who  said  that." 

"  I  don't  object  in  the  least  to  telling  you,"  said  Lod 
loe  ;  "  it  is  fitter  that  you  should  know  it  than  that  I 


86  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

should  know  it.  That  was  a  quoted  opinion  of  Miss 
Calthea  Rose." 

"  Good  for  you,"  said  Lanigan ;  "  you  'd  be  death 
to  the  members  of  a  scandal-monger  society.  You 
would  break  up  the  business  utterly." 

"  To  this  Mr.  Fetter  remarked,"  said  Lodloe,  "  that 
he  thought  in  many  ways  you  had  improved  very 
much,  but  he  was  obliged  to  admit  that  he  could  never 
think  of  anything  that  you  had  done  which  was  of  the 
least  benefit  to  yourself  or  anybody  else." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  cried  Lanigan,  "  that  ?s  a  pretty 
wide  sweep  for  old  Fetter.  I  shall  have  to  rub  up  his 
memory.  He  forgets  that  I  helped  him  to  make  the 
plans  for  this  house.  And  what  did  Mrs.  Cristie  say 
about  me  ? " 

"  She  said  she  thought  it  was  a  great  pity  that  you 
did  not  apply  yourself  to  something  or  other." 

"  She  is  right  there,"  said  Beam,  "  and,  by  George ! 
I  '11  apply  myself  to  her.  However,  I  don't  know 
about  that,"  he  continued.  "  What  else  did  Calthea 
say  ?  " 

"One  remark  was  that  having  proved  false  to  every 
friend  you  had  here  you  had  no  right  to  return." 

"  That  means,"  said  Mr.  Beam,  "  that  having  prom 
ised  at  least  five  times  to  marry  her,  I  never  did  it 
once." 

"  Were  you  really  engaged  to  her  ?  "  asked  Lodloe. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  other ;  "  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  had 
always  been  engaged  to  her.  Born  that  way.  Sort 
of  an  ailment  you  get  used  to,  like  squinting.  When 
I  was  a  youngster,  Calthea  was  a  mighty  pretty  girl, 
a  good  deal  my  senior,  of  course,  or  I  would  n't  have 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  87 

cared  for  her.  As  she  grew  older  she  grew  prettier, 
and  I  was  more  and  more  in  love  with  her.  We  used 
to  have  quarrels,  but  they  did  n't  make  much  differ 
ence,  for  after  every  one  of  them  we  engaged  our 
selves  again,  and  all  went  on  as  before.  But  the  time 
came  when  Calthea  kept  on  being  older  than  I  was, 
and  did  n't  keep  on  being  pretty  and  agreeable.  Then 
I  began  to  weaken  about  the  marriage  altar  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  but  for  all  that  I  would  have  been 
perfectly  willing  to  stay  engaged  to  her  for  the  rest 
of  my  life  if  she  had  wished  it,  but  one  day  she  got 
jealous,  kicked  up  a  tremendous  row,  and  away  I 
went." 

"  Well,"  said  Lodloe,  "  she  must  have  considered 
that  the  best  thing  you  could  do  for  her,  for  Mrs. 
Fetter  said  that  she  had  heard  her  declare  dozens  of 
times  that  from  her  very  youth  you  had  hung  like 
a  millstone  about  her  neck,  and  blighted  her  every 
prospect,  and  that  your  return  here  was  like  one  of 
the  seven  plagues  of  Egypt." 

"  Mixed,  but  severe,"  said  Mr.  Beam.  "  Did  anybody 
say  any  good  of  me?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Lodloe ;  "  Mrs.  Cristie  said  you 
were  an  obliging  fellow,  although  very  apt  to  forget 
what  you  had  promised  to  do.  Mr.  Fetter  said  that 
you  had  a  very  friendly  disposition,  although  he  was 
obliged  to  admit  the  truth  of  his  wife's  remark  that 
said  disposition  would  have  been  more  agreea.ble  to 
your  friends,  if  you  had  been  as  willing  to  do  things 
for  them  as  you  were  to  have  them  do  .things  for  you. 
And  Mrs.  Fetter  on  her  own  motion  summed  up  your 
character  by  saying,  that  if  you  had  not  been  so  re- 
7 


88  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

gardless  of  the  welfare  and  wishes  of  others ;  so  totally 
given  up  to  self-gratification ;  so  ignorant  of  all  kinds 
of  business,  and  so  unwilling  to  learn ;  so  extravagant 
in  your  habits,  and  so  utterly  conscienceless  in  regard 
to  your  debts;  so  neglectful  of  your  promises  and 
your  duty ;  so  heretical  in  your  opinions,  political  and 
religious,  and  such  a  dreadful  backslider  from  every 
thing  that  you  had  promised  to  be  when  a  baby,  you 
would  be  a  very  nice  sort  of  fellow,  whom  she  would 
like  to  see  come  into  the  house." 

"Well,"  said  Lanigan  Beam,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  "  that  's  all  of  my  bright  side,  is  it  ? " 

"Not  quite,"  said  Lodloe;  "Mr.  Tippengray  de 
clared  that  you  are  the  first  man  he  ever  heard  of  who 
did  not  possess  a  single  good  point ;  that  you  must 
be  very  interesting,  and  that  he  would  like  to  know 
you." 

"  Noble  Tippengray  ! "  said  Mr.  Beam.  "  And  he  's 
the  man  who  is  chumming  it  with  Calthea  ?  " 

"  Not  at  present,"  said  Lodloe  ;  "  she  is  jealous,  and 
does  n't  speak  to  him." 

Mr.  Beam  let  his  head  drop  on  his  breast,  his  arms 
hung  down  by  his  side,  and  he  sank  into  his  chair,  as 
if  his  spine  had  come  unhinged. 

"  There  goes  the  last  prop  from  under  me,"  he  said. 
"  If  Calthea  had  a  man  in  tow  I  would  n't  be  afraid  of 
her,  but  now — well,  no  matter.  If  you  will  let  me 
take  that  bottle  of  ammonia  with  me, — I  suppose  by 
rights  it  now  belongs  to  the  house, —  I  '11  go  back  to 
that  room  and  fight  it  out  with  the  wasps.  As  I 
have  n't  any  good  points,  they  '11  be  able  to  put  some 
into  me,  I  '11  wager." 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  89 

Lodloe  laughed.  "  You  shall  not  go  there,"  he  said ; 
"I  have  more  bed-covering  than  I  want,  and  an  extra 
pillow,  and  if  you  can  make  yourself  comfortable  on 
that  lounge  you  are  welcome  to  stay  here." 

"Sir,"  said  Lanigan  Beam,  rising,  "I  accept  your 
offer,  and  if  it  were  not  that  by  so  doing  I  would  de 
stroy  the  rare  symmetry  of  my  character,  I  would 
express  my  gratitude.  And  now  I  will  go  down  your 
stairs,  and  up  my  ladder,  and  get  my  valise." 


XII 


LANIGAN    CHANGES    HIS    CRAVAT 


ARLY  the  next  morning,  without 
disturbing  the  sleep  of  Walter  Lod- 
loe,  Lanigan  Beam  descended  from 
the  tower,  carrying  his  valise.  His 
face  wore  that  air  of  gravity  which 
sometimes  follows  an  early  morning 
hour  of  earnest  reflection,  and  he  had  substituted 
a  black  cravat  for  the  blue  one  with  white  spots  that 
he  had  worn  on  his  arrival. 

"Walking  out  towards  the  barn  he  met  Mr.  Fetter, 
who  was  one  of  the  earliest  risers  on  the  place. 

The  greeting  given  him  by  the  landlord  of  the 
Squirrel  Inn  was  a  mixture  of  surprise,  cordiality, 
and  annoyance. 

"  Lanigan  Beam  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why,  I 
thought—" 

"  Of  course  you  did  ;  I  understand,"  said  the  other, 
extending  his  hand  with  a  dignified  superiority  to 
momentary  excitement  in  others.  "  You  thought  I 
would  arrive  at  Lethbury  in  a  day  or  two,  and  had  no 
idea  of  seeing  me  here.  You  have  reason,  but  I  have 
changed  my  plans.  I  left  New  York  earlier  than  I 
intended,  and  I  am  not  going  to  Lethbury  at  all.  At 

90 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  91 

least  not  to  the  hotel  there.  I  greatly  prefer  this 
house." 

A  shade  of  decided  trouble  came  over  Mr.  Fetter's 
face. 

"  Now,  Lanigan,"  he  said,  "  that  will  not  do  at  all ; 
of  course  I  don't  want  to  be  hard  on  you,  and  I  never 
was,  but  my  season  is  commenced,  I  have  my  guests, 
my  rules  are  in  full  force,  and  I  cannot  permit  you 
to  come  here  and  disarrange  my  arrangements.  If 
for  once,  Lanigan,  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  think, 
you  will  see  that  for  yourself." 

"  Mr.  Fetter,"  said  the  younger  man,  setting  his 
valise  upon  the  ground,  "I  have  no  desire  to  disar 
range  them ;  on  the  contrary,  I  would  stamp  them 
with  fixity.  And  before  we  go  any  further  I  beg  that 
you  be  kind  enough  not  to  call  me  by  my  Christian 
name,  and  to  endeavor  to  produce  in  yourself  the 
conviction  that  since  you  last  saw  me  I  have  been 
entirely  rearranged  and  reconstructed.  In  order  to 
do  this,  you  have  only  to  think  of  me  as  you  used  to 
think,  and  then  exactly  reverse  your  opinion.  In 
this  way  you  will  get  a  true  view  of  my  present  char 
acter.  It  does  not  suit  me  to  do  things  partially,  or 
by  degrees,  and  I  am  now  exactly  the  opposite  of  what 
I  used  to  be.  By  keeping  this  in  mind  any  one  who 
knew  me  before  may  consider  himself  or  herself  per 
fectly  acquainted  with  me  now." 

Stephen  Fetter  looked  at  him  doubtfully. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  be  very  glad  —  and 
so  will  Mrs.  Fetter  —  to  find  that  you  have  reformed, 
but  as  to  your  coming  here  —  " 

" Now,  then,"  said  Mr.  Beam,  "I  know  you  are  not 


92 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 


the  man  to  allow  trifles  to  stand  in  the  way  of  impor 
tant  movements.  I  am  here  for  a  purpose,  a  great 
purpose,  with  which  you  will  be  in  entire  sympathy. 
I  will  say  at  once,  frankly  and  openly,  that  my  object 
is  the  improvement  of  Lethbury.  I  have  a  project 
which — " 


1<I  AM   HERE   FOR  A   PURPOSE." 

"Now,  now,  now!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Fetter,  with 
much  irritation,  "  I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  more 
of  any  of  your  projects;  I  know  all  about  them. 
They  all  begin  with  a  demand  for  money  from  your 


THE  SQUIEEEL  INN.  93 

friends,  and  that  is  the  end  of  the  project  and  the 
money." 

"  Stephen  Fetter,"  said  the  other,  "  you  are  not 
looking  at  my  character  as  I  told  you  to  look  at  it. 
Every  cent  of  the  capital  required  for  my  operations  I 
will  contribute  myself.  No  one  will  be  allowed  to  sub 
scribe  any  money  whatever.  This,  you  see,  is  exactly 
the  opposite  of  what  used  to  be  the  case ;  and  when  I 
tell  you  that  the  success  of  my  plan  will  improve  the 
business  of  Lethbury,  elevate  its  moral  and  intellec 
tual  standard,  exercise  an  ennobling .  and  purifying 
influence  upon  the  tone  of  its  society,  and  give  an 
almost  incredible  impetus  to  faith,  hope,  and  charity 
in  its  moral  atmosphere, —  and  all  that  without  any 
body's  being  asked  to  give  a  copper, —  I  know  you 
will  agree  with  me  that  a  mere  matter  of  residence 
should  not  be  allowed  to  block  this  great  work." 

Since  he  had  been  assured  that  he  was  not  to  be 
asked  to  contribute  money,  Mr.  Fetter's  face  had 
shown  relief  and  interest ;  but  now  he  shook  his  head. 

"  This  is  my  season,"  he  said,  "  and  I  have  my 
rules." 

Lanigan  Beam  laid  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of 
his  companion. 

" Fetter,"  said  he,  "I  don't  ask  you  to  infract  your 
rules.  That  would  be  against  my  every  principle.  I 
do  not  know  the  Rockmores  of  Germantown,  but  if  it 
were  necessary  I  would  immediately  go  and  find  them, 
and  make  their  acquaintance  —  I  should  have  no 
difficulty  in  doing  it,  I  assure  you,  but  it  is  not  neces 
sary.  I  staid  last  night  with  Mr.  Lodloe,  who  occupies 
the  top  room  of  your  tower.  Don't  jump  out  of  your 


94  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

boots.  I  went  to  him  because  there  was  a  light  in  his 
room  and  the  rest  of  the  house  was  dark,  and  he 
explained  to  me  the  Rockmorial  reason  why  he  occu 
pies  that  room  while  the  rest  of  your  house  is  nearly 
empty.  Now  you  can  do  the  same  thing  for  me.  Let 
me  have  that  upper  room  with  no  stairway  to  it; 
give  me  the  use  of  a  ladder,  and  I  shall  be  perfectly 
satisfied." 

"  But  the  room  's  not  furnished/7  said  Mr.  Fetter. 

"  Oh,  we  can  easily  get  over  that  little  difficulty," 
replied  Mr.  Beam;  "whatever  furniture  may  be 
needed  can  easily  be  put  in  through  the  window.  If 
there  are  any  wasps  up  there  I  can  fumigate  them 
out.  Now  we  call  that  settled,  don't  we?  None  of 
your  rules  broken,  Lethbury  regenerated,  and  noth 
ing  for  you  to  do  but  look  on  and  profit." 

Mr.  Fetter  gazed  reflectively  upon  the  ground. 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt,"  said  he,  "  that  Lethbury 
is  in  a  stagnant  condition,  and  if  that  condition  could 
be  improved,  it  would  be  for  the  benefit  of  us  all; 
and  considering,  furthermore,  that  if  your  project  — 
which  you  have  not  yet  explained  to  me — should  be 
unsuccessful,  no  one  but  yourself  will  lose  any  money, 
I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  interfere  with  your  show 
ing  the  people  of  this  neighborhood  that  your  character 
has  been  reconstructed.  But  if  you  should  lodge  in 
that  room,  it  would  make  a  very  odd  condition  of 
things.  I  should  then  have  but  three  male  guests, 
and  not  one  of  them  literally  living  in  my  house." 

"Ah,  my  good  friend  Fetter,"  said  Lanigan,  taking 
up  his  valise,  "  you  should  know  there  is  luck  in  odd 
conditions,  as  well  as  in  odd  numbers,  and  everything 
will  turn  out  right,  you  may  bet  on  that.  Hello,"  he 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 


95 


continued,  stepping  back  a  little,  "  who  is  that  very 
pretty  girl  with  a  book  in  her  hand  ?  That  cannot  be 
Mrs.  Cristie." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Mr.  Fetter,  "  that  is  her  maid,  who 
takes  care  of  her  child.  I  think  the  young  woman  has 
come  out  to  study  before  beginning  her  daily  duties." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Lanigan  Beam,  attentively 
regarding  Miss  Ida  Mayberry  as  she  daintily  made 
her  way  across  the  dewy  lawn  to  a  rustic  seat  tinder  a 
tree.  And  then,  suddenly  turning  to  Mr.  Petter,hesaid : 

"  Look  you,  my  good  Stephen,  can't  you  let  me  go 
in  somewhere  and  furbish  myself  up  a  little  before 
breakfast?" 

And  having  been  shown  into  a  room  on  the  ground 
floor,  Mr.  Beam  immediately  proceeded  to  take  off  his 
black  cravat  and  to  replace  it  by  the  blue  one  with 
white  spots. 


XIII 

DECREES  OF  EXILE 

O  WARDS  the  end  of  the  afternoon 
of  the  day  after  Mr.  Lanigan  Beam 
had  been  installed  as  an  outside 
guest  of  the  Squirrel  Inn,  Miss  Cal- 
thea  Rose  sat  by  the  window  at  the 
back  of  her  shop.  This  shop  was 
a  small  one,  but  it  differed  from  most  other  places  of 
business  in  that  it  contained  very  few  goods  and  was 
often  locked  up.  When  there  is  reason  to  suppose 
that  if  you  go  to  a  shop  you  will  not  be  able  to  get 
in,  and  that,  should  it  be  open,  you  will  not  be  apt  to 
find  therein  anything  you  want,  it  is  not  likely  that 
such  a  shop  will  have  a  very  good  run  of  custom. 

This  was  the  case  with  Miss  Calthea's  establish 
ment.  It  had  become  rare  for  any  one  even  to  propose 
custom,  but  she  did  not  in  the  least  waver  in  regard 
to  her  plan  of  closing  up  the  business  left  to  her  by 
her  father.  As  has  been  said,  she  did  not  wish  to 
continue  this  business,  so  she  laid  in  no  new  stock, 
and  as  she  had  gradually  sold  off  a  great  deal,  she 
expected  to  be  able  in  time  to  sell  off  everything.  She 
did  not  adopt  the  usual  methods  of  clearing  out  a  stock 
of  goods,  because  these  would  involve  sacrifices,  and, 

96 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  97 

as  Miss  Calthea  very  freely  said  to  those  who  spoke  to 
her  on  the  subject,  there  was  no  need  whatever  for 
her  to  make  sacrifices.  She  was  good  at  waiting,  and 
she  could  wait.  When  she  sold  the  few  things  which 
remained  on  the  shelves  —  and  she,  as  well  as  nearly 
every  one  in  the  village,  knew  exactly  what  these 
things  were  without  the  trouble  of  looking  —  she 
would  retire  from  business,  and  have  the  shop  altered 
into  a  front  parlor.  Until  then  the  articles  which 
remained  on  hand  were  for  sale. 

Miss  Calthea  was  busily  sewing,  but  she  was  much 
more  busily  engaged  in  thinking.  So  earnestly  was 
her  mind  set  upon  the  latter  occupation  that  she  never 
raised  her  head  to  look  out  at  the  special  varieties  of 
hollyhocks,  dahlias,  and  marigolds  which  had  lately 
begun  to  show  their  beauties  in  the  beds  beneath  her 
window,  nor  did  she  glance  towards  the  door  to  see  if 
any  one  was  coming  in.  She  had  much  more  impor 
tant  things  to  think  about  than  flowers  or  customers. 

Mrs.  Fetter  had  driven  over  to  Lethbury  that 
morning,  and  had  told  Calthea  all  the  news  of  the 
Squirrel  Inn.  She  had  told  her  of  the  unexpected 
arrival  of  Lanigan  Beam ;  of  his  unwillingness  to  go 
to  Lethbury,  as  he  had  originally  intended,  and  of  the 
quarters  that  had  been  assigned  to  him  in  the  ladder- 
room.  She  also  told  how  Lanigan,  who  now  wished 
to  be  called  Mr.  Beam,  had  a  wonderful  plan  in  his 
mind  for  the  improvement  of  Lethbury,  but  whether 
it  was  electric  lights,  or  gas,  or  water,  or  street  rail 
roads,  or  a  public  library,  he  would  not  tell  anybody. 
He  was  going  to  work  in  his  own  way,  and  all  he 
would  say  about  the  scheme  was  that  he  did  not  want 


98  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

anybody  to  give  him  money  for  it.  And  this,  Mrs. 
Fetter  had  remarked,  had  helped  Mr.  Fetter  and  her 
self  to  believe  what  Lanigan  had  said  about  his 
amendment,  for  if  anything  could  show  a  change  in 
him  it  would  be  his  not  wanting  people  to  give  him 
money. 

Mrs.  Fetter  had  said  a  great  deal  about  the  new 
comer,  and  had  declared  that  whatever  alterations 
had  gone  on  in  his  mind,  soul,  and  character,  he  cer 
tainly  had  improved  in  appearance,  and  was  a  very 
good-looking  young  man,  with  becoming  clothes.  In 
one  way,  however,  he  had  not  changed,  for  in  a  sur 
prisingly  short  time  he  had  made  friends  with  every 
body  on  the  place.  He  talked  to  Mr.  Lodloe  as  if  he 
had  been  an  old  chum ;  he  had  renewed  his  acquain 
tance  with  Mrs  Cristie,  and  was  very  gallant  to  her ; 
he  was  hand-in-glove  with  Mr.  Tippengray,  both  of 
them  laughing  together  and  making  jokes  as  if  they 
had  always  known  each  other ;  and,  more  than  that, 
it  was  n't  an  hour  after  breakfast  when  he  and  Mrs. 
Cristie's  nurse-maid  were  sitting  on  a  bench  under 
the  trees,  reading  out  of  the  same  book,  while  Mr. 
Tippengray  was  pushing  the  baby-carriage  up  and 
down  on  the  grass,  and  Mrs.  Cristie  and  Mr.  Lodloe 
were  putting  up  the  lawn-tennis  net. 

"  I  could  see  for  myself,"  Mrs.  Fetter  had  remarked 
at  this  point,  "that  you  were  right  in  saying  that 
there  was  no  use  in  my  talking  about  the  boarders 
associating  with  servants,  for  when  they  made  up  the 
lawn-tennis  game  it  turned  out  that  Mr.  Tippengray 
did  n't  play,  and  so  that  girl  Ida  had  to  take  a  hand 
while  he  kept  on  neglecting  his  Greek  for  the  baby." 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  99 

At  last  Miss  Calthea  let  her  sewing  drop  into  her 
lap,  and  sat  looking  at  an  empty  shelf  opposite  to  her. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  to  herself,  her  lips  moving,  although 
no  sound  was  audible,  "  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  get 
Lanigan  away.  As  long  as  he  is  here  I  might  as  well 
not  lift  a  finger,  and  it  looks  as  if  that  impertinent 
minx  of  a  child's  nurse  would  be  iny  best  help.  If  he 
does  n't  have  one  of  his  changeable  fits,  he  will  be 
ready  in  three  days  to  follow  her  anywhere,  but  I 
must  look  sharp,  for  at  this  very  minute  he  may  be 
making  love  to  the  widow.  Of  course  he  has  n't  any 
chance  with  her,  but  it  would  be  just  like  Lanigan  to 
go  in  strongest  where  he  knew  he  had  n't  any  chance. 
However,  I  shall  see  for  myself  how  matters  stand, 
and  one  thing  is  certain — Lanigan  has  got  to  go." 

About  this  time  Mr.  Lanigan  Beam,  findingliimself 
with  a  solitary  quarter  of  an  hour  on  his  hands,  was 
reflecting  on  a  bench  upon  the  lawn  of  the  Squirrel  Inn. 
"Yes,"  he  thought,  "it  is  a  great  plan.  It  will  ele 
vate  the  social  tone  of  Lethbury,  it  will  purify  the 
moral  atmosphere  of  the  surrounding  country,  and, 
above  all,  it  will  make  it  possible  for  me  to  live  here. 
It  will  give  me  an  opportunity  to  become  a  man 
among  men  in  the  place  where  I  was  born.  Until 
this  thing  is  done,  I  can  have  no  chance  to  better 
myself  here,  and,  more  than  that,  the  community  has 
no  chance  to  better  itself.  Yes,  it  must  be  done ; 
Calthea  Rose  must  go." 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Fetter  came  along,  on  his  way 
to  supper. 

"  Well,  Lanigan,"  said  he,  "  are  you  thinking  about 
your  great  enterprise  ? " 


100  THE   SQUIEEEL  INN. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  rising  and  walking  with  him ; 
"  that  is  exactly  what  my  mind  was  working  on." 

'•And  you  are  going  to  do  it  all  yourself?"  said 
Mr.  Fetter. 

"Not  exactly,"  said  Beam.  "I  shall  not  require 
any  pecuniary  assistance,  but  I  shall  want  some  one 
to  help  me." 

"  Is  there  anybody  about  here  who  can  do  it  ? " 

"Yes;  I  hope  so,"  said  Lanigan.  "At  present  I 
am  thinking  of  Mr.  Tippengray." 

"  A  very  good  choice,"  said  Mr.  Fetter ;  "  he  is  a 
man  of  fine  mind,  and  it  will  certainly  be  to  your 
advantage  if  you  can  get  him  to  work  with  you." 

"  Indeed  it  will  be,"  said  Lanigan  Beam,  with  much 
earnestness. 


X1Y 


BACKING   OUT 


DA  MAYBERRY  was  walking  on 
the  narrow  road  which  led  through 
the  woods  from  the  Squirrel  Inn  to 
the  public  highway.  She  had  been 
much  interested  in  the  road  when 
she  had  been  driven  through  it  on 
the  day  of  her  arrival,  and  had  availed  herself  of  the 
opportunity  given  her  this  pleasant  afternoon,  by  the 
prolonged  slumbers  of  Master  Douglas  Cristie,  to 
make  a  close  acquaintance  with  its  attractions. 

It  was  indeed  a  pleasant  road,  where  there  were  tall 
trees  that  often  met  overhead,  and  on  each  side  there 
were  bushes,  and  vines,  and  wild  flowers,  and  little 
vistas  opening  into  the  woods,  and  rabbits  running 
across  the  roadway ;  a  shallow  stream  tumbling  along 
its  stony  bed,  sometimes  to  be  seen  and  sometimes 
only  heard ;  yellow  butterflies  in  the  air ;  and  glimpses 
above,  that  afternoon,  of  blue  sky  and  white  clouds. 

When  she  had  walked  about  half  the  length  of  the 
road  Miss  Mayberry  came  to  a  tree  with  a  large 
branch  running  horizontally  about  three  feet  from 
the  ground  and  then  turning  up  again,  so  as  to  make 
a  very  good  seat  for  young  people  who  like  that  sort 


101 


102 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 


w(f  \l\  / 

IDA  MAKES   HERSELF   COMFORTABLE. 

of  thing.  Ida  was  a  young  person  who  liked  that 
sort  of  thing,  and  she  speedily  clambered  upon  the 
broad,  horizontal  branch  and  bestowed  herself  quite 
comfortably  there.  Taking  off  her  hat  and  leaning 
her  head  against  the  upright  portion  of  the  branch, 
she  continued  the  reflections  she  had  been  marking 
while  walking. 


THE  SQUIKEEL  INN.  103 

"  Yes,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  it  will  be  wise  in  me 
not  only  to  make  up  my  mind  that  I  will  not  grow  to 
be  an  old  maid,  but  to  prevent  people  from  thinking 
I  am  going  to  grow  to  be  one.  I  believe  that  people 
are  very  apt  to  think  that  way  about  teachers.  Per 
haps  it  is  because  they  are  always  contrasted  with 
younger  persons.  There  is  no  reason  why  girl  teachers 
should  be  different  from  other  girls.  Marriage  should 
be  as  practically  advantageous  to  them  as  to  any 
others,  only  they  should  be  more  than  usually  circum 
spect  in  regard  to  their  partners ;  that  is,  if  they  care 
for  careers,  which  I  am  sure  I  do. 

"  Now  the  situation  in  this  place  seems  to  me  to  be 
one  which  I  ought  seriously  to  consider.  It  is  gen 
erally  agreed  that  propinquity  is  the  cause  of  most 
marriages,  but  I  think  that  a  girl  ought  to  be  very 
careful  not  to  let  propinquity  get  the  better  of  her. 
She  should  regulate  and  control  propinquities. 

"Here,  now,  is  Mr.  Lodloe.  He  seems  to  be  a  very 
suitable  sort  of  a  man,  young  and  good-looking,  and, 
I  think,  endowed  with  brains  ;  but  I  have  read  two  of 
his  stories,  and  I  see  no  promise  in  them,  and  I  doubt 
if  he  would  sympathize  with  good,  hard  study;  be 
sides,  he  is  devoting  himself  to  Mrs.  Cristie,  and  he  is 
out  of  the  question.  Mr.  Tippengray  is  an  exceedingly 
agreeable  man  and  a  true  student.  To  marry  him 
would  be  in  itself  a  higher  education  ;  but  he  is  not  a 
bit  young.  I  think  he  is  at  least  fifty,  perhaps  more, 
and  then,  supposing  that  he  should  retain  his  mental 
vigor  until  he  is  seventy,  that  would  give  only  twenty 
years  of  satisfactory  intellectual  companionship.  That 

is  a  point  that  ought  to  be  very  carefully  weighed. 
8 


104  THE  SQUIEREL  INN. 

"As  to  Mr.  Beam,  he  is  older  than  I  am,  but  he  is 
young  enough.  Upon  the  probable  duration  of  his 
life  one  might  predicate  forty  years  of  mental  activity, 
and  from  what  I  have  seen  of  him  he  appears  to  have 
a  good  intellect.  They  talk  about  an  aqueduct  and 
waterworks  he  is  about  to  construct.  That  indicates 
the  study  of  geology,  and  engineering  capacity,  and 
such  a  bias  of  mind  would  suit  me  very  well.  Mrs. 
Fetter  tells  me  that  he  is  really  and  truly  engaged 
to  that  old  thing  from  Lethbury ;  but  as  she  also  said 
that  he  is  heartily  tired  of  the  engagement,  I  don't 
see  why  it  should  be  considered.  He  is  as  likely  to 
correct  his  errors  of  matrimonial  inclination  as  he  is 
those  of  mathematical  computation,  and  as  for  her,  I 
should  not  let  her  stand  in  my  way  for  one  minute. 
Any  woman  who  is  as  jealous  about  a  man  as  she  is 
about  Mr.  Tippengray  has  waived  her  right  in  all 
other  men." 

About  this  time  a  phaeton,  drawn  by  a  stout  sorrel 
horse,  and  containing  Miss  Calthea  Rose,  was  turning 
from  the  highroad  into  this  lane.  As  a  rule,  Miss 
Calthea  greatly  preferred  walking  to  driving,  and  al 
though  her  father  had  left  her  a  horse  and  several 
vehicles,  she  seldom  made  personal  use  of  them  ;  but 
to-day  she  was  going  to  Romney,  which  was  too  far 
away  for  walking,  and  she  had  planned  to  stop  at  the 
Squirrel  Inn  and  ask  Mrs.  Cristie  to  go  with  her. 

It  was  necessary,  for  the  furtherance  of  Miss  Cal- 
thea's  plans,  that  she  should  be  on  good  terms  with 
Mrs.  Cristie.  She  ought,  in  fact,  to  be  intimate  with  her, 
so  that  when  the  time  came  she  could  talk  to  her  freely 
and  plainly.  It  was  desirable,  indeed,  that  she  should 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  105 

maintain  a  friendly  connection  with  everybody  at  the 
Squirrel  Inn.  She  had  not  yet  met  Lanigan  Beam, 
and  it  would  be  well  if  he  should  be  made  to  feel  that 
she  looked  upon  him  merely  as  an  old  companion,  and 
cared  for  him  neither  more  nor  less  than  one  cares 
for  ordinary  old  companions.  Thus  he  would  feel  per 
fectly  free  to  carry  out  his  own  impulses  and  her  desires. 

Towards  Mr.  Tippengray  she  had  decided  to  soften. 
She  was  still  very  angry  with  him,  but  it  would  not 
do  to  repel  him  from  herself,  for  that  might  impel 
him  towards  another,  and  spoil  two  of  her  plans. 
Even  to  that  impertinent  child's  nurse  she  would  be 
civil.  She  need  have  but  little  to  do  with  the  creature, 
but  she  must  not  let  any  one  suppose  that  she  har 
bored  ill  feeling  towards  her,  and,  with  the  exception 
of  Mrs.  Fetter,  no  one  would  suppose  she  had  any 
reason  for  such  feelings.  In  fact,  as  Miss  Calthea's 
mind  dwelt  upon  this  subject,  she  came  to  think  that 
it  would  be  a  very  good  thing  if  she  could  do  some 
kindness  or  service  to  this  girl.  This  would  give 
effect  to  what  she  might  afterward  be  obliged  to  say 
about  her. 

Having  reached  this  point  in  her  cogitations,  she 
also  reached  the  point  in  the  road  where  Ida  May- 
berry  still  sat  making  her  plans,  and  concealed  from 
the  view  of  those  coming  from  the  direction  of  the 
highroad  by  a  mass  of  projecting  elderberry  bushes. 
Hearing  an  approaching  vehicle,  the  young  woman 
on  the  horizontal  limb,  not  wishing  to  be  seen  perched 
upon  this  elevated  seat,  sprang  to  the  ground,  which 
she  touched  about  four  feet  from  the  nose  of  the  sor 
rel  horse. 


106  THE  SQUIKKEL  INN. 

This  animal,  which  was  trotting  along  in  a  quiet 
and  reflective  way,  as  if  he  also  was  making  plans, 
was  greatly  startled  by  this  sudden  flash  of  a  light- 
colored  mass,  this  rustle,  this  waving,  this  thud  upon 
the  ground,  and  he  bounded  sidewise  entirely  across 
the  road,  stopping  with  his  head  in  the  bushes  on  the 
other  side. 

Miss  Calthea,  who  was  nearly  thrown  from  her 
seat,  could  not  repress  a  scream,  and,  turning,  per 
ceived  Ida  Mayberry. 

"  Did  you  do  that  ? "  she  cried. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  made  your  horse  shy,"  said  Ida, 
approaching  the  vehicle;  "but  he  seems  to  be  per 
fectly  quiet  now,  and  I  hope  nothing  is  broken. 
Horses  ought  to  be  taught  not  to  shy,  but  I  suppose 
that  would  be  difficult,  considering  the  small  size  of 
their  brain  cavities." 

"If  some  people  had  as  much  brains  as  a  horse," 
muttered  Miss  Calthea,  "  it  would  be  better  for  them. 
Back,  Sultan  !  Do  you  hear  me  ?  Back ! "  And  she 
tugged  with  all  her  strength  upon  the  reins. 

But  the  sorrel  horse  did  not  move;  he  had  two 
reasons  for  refusing  to  obey  his  mistress.  In  the  first 
place,  on  general  principles  he  disliked  to  back,  and 
was  fully  conscious  that  Miss  Calthea  could  not  make 
him  do  it,  and  in  the  second  place,  he  wanted  a  drink, 
and  did  not  intend  to  move  until  he  got  it.  Just  here 
the  brook  was  at  its  widest  and  deepest,  and  it  came 
so  near  the  road  that  in  shying  Sultan  had  entered  it 
so  far  that  the  front  wheels  of  the  phaeton  nearly 
touched  the  water.  Standing  more  than  fetlock 
deep  in  this  cool  stream,  it  is  no  wonder  that  Sultan 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  107 

wanted  some  one  to  loosen  his  check-rein  and  let  him 
drink. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  strong  enough  to  back 
him  out  of  that/'  said  Ida ;  "  and  if  there  were  not  so 
much  water  all  around  him  I  would  go  and  take  him 
by  the  head." 

"  Let  him  alone,"  cried  Miss  Calthea.  "  Back,  Sultan ! 
Back,  I  say !  "  And  she  pulled  and  pulled,  tiring  her 
self  greatly,  but  making  no  impression  upon  the 
horse. 

Now  appeared  upon  the  scene  Mrs.  Cristie,  pushing 
her  baby-carriage.  She  had  come  to  look  for  Ida. 
She  was  full  of  sympathy  when  she  heard  what  had 
happened,  and,  pushing  Douglas  into  a  safe  place  be 
hind  a  tree,  came  forward  and  proposed  that  some  one 
go  for  a  man.  But  Calthea  Rose  did  not  want  a  man. 
She  was  very  proud  of  her  abilities  as  a  horsewoman, 
and  she  did  not  wish  a  man  to  behold  her  inferiority 
in  emergencies  of  this  sort.  She  therefore  opposed 
the  suggestion,  and  continued  to  pull  and  tug. 

"  That  will  never  do,"  said  Ida  Mayberry,  who  had 
been  earnestly  regarding  the  situation.  "You  cannot 
make  him  move,  and  even  if  we  did  go  into  the  water, 
he  might  jump  about  and  tread  on  us;  but  I  have 
thought  of  a  way  in  which  I  think  we  can  make  him 
back.  You  are  pretty  heavy,  Miss  Rose,  and  Mrs. 
Cristie  is  lighter  than  I  am,  so  she  ought  to  get  into 
the  phaeton  and  take  the  reins,  and  you  and  I  ought 
to  help  back  the  phaeton.  I  have  seen  it  done,  and  I 
can  tell  you  how  to  do  it." 

To  this  Miss  Calthea  paid  no  immediate  attention ; 
but  as  Mrs.  Cristie  urged  that  if  Ida  knew  about  such 


• 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  109 

things  it  would  be  well  to  let  her  try  what  she  could 
do,  and  as  Miss  Calthea  found  that  tugging  at  Sul 
tan's  bit  amounted  to  nothing,  she  stepped  out  of  the 
low  vehicle  and  demanded  to  know  what  the  child's 
nurse  proposed  to  do. 

"  Now  jump  in,  Mrs.  Cristie,"  said  Ida,  "  and  when 
I  give  the  word  you  pull  the  reins  with  all  your 
might,  and  shout '  Back ! '  at  him.  Miss  Rose,  you  go 
to  that  hind  wheel,  and  I  will  go  to  this  one.  Now 
put  one  foot  on  a  spoke,  so,  and  take  hold  of  the 
wheel,  and  when  I  say  '  Now ! '  we  will  both  raise  our 
selves  up  and  put  our  whole  weight  on  the  spoke,  and 
Mrs.  Cristie  will  pull  on  him  at  the  same  instant." 

Somewhat  doggedly,  but  anxious  to  get  out  of  her 
predicament,  Miss  Calthea  took  her  position  at  the 
wheel  and  put  one  foot  upon  an  almost  horizontal 
spoke.  Ida  did  the  same,  and  then  giving  the  word, 
both  women  raised  themselves  from  the  ground ;  Mrs. 
Cristie  gave  a  great  pull,  and  shouted,  "  Back ! "  and 
as  the  hind  wheels  began  slowly  to  revolve,  the  as 
tonished  horse,  involuntarily  obeying  the  double 
impulse  thus  given  him,  backed  a  step  or  two. 

"  Now !  Again  ! "  cried  Ida,  and  the  process  was  re 
peated,  this  time  the  horse  backing  himself  out  of  the 
water. 

"  Bravo !  "  cried  Lanigan  Beam,  who,  with  Walter 
Lodloe,  had  arrived  on  the  scene  just  as  Calthea  Rose 
and  Ida  Mayberry  had  made  their  second  graceful 
descent  from  an  elevated  spoke  to  the  ground. 


THE   BABY  IS  PASSED  AROUND 


OD  for  you,  Calthy,"  cried  Lanigan 
Beam,  advancing  with  outstretched 
hands.  ; *  How  do  you  do  f  Old  Sul 
tan  is  at  his  tricks  again,  is  he, 
declining  to  back?  But  you  got 
the  better  of  him  that  time,  and  did 
it  well,  too." 

In  his  admiration  of  the  feat  he  had  witnessed,  the 
credit  of  which  he  gave  entirely  to  his  old  and  well- 
tried  fiancee,  Lanigan  forgot  for  the  moment  his  plan 
for  the  benefit  of  Lethbury. 

Irritated  and  embarrassed  as  she  was,  Miss  Calthea 
did  not  forget  her  intention  of  treating  Lanigan 
Beam  as  a  person  between  whom  and  herself  there 
could  be  nothing  of  a  connecting  order  which  could  be 
set  up  as  something  of  an  obstructing  order  between 
herself  and  any  one  else.  She  therefore  took  his  hand, 
made  a  few  commonplace  remarks  about  his  return, 
and  then,  excusing  herself,  approached  Mrs.  Cristie, 
who  was  just  about  to  alight  from  the  phaeton,  and 
gave  her  the  invitation  to  drive  to  Romney.  That  lady 
hesitated  a  few  moments,  and  then,  remembering 
some  shopping  she  would  like  to  do,  accepted;  and 

110 


THE  SQUIEREL  INN.  Ill 

the  attention  of  Miss  Mayberry  having  been  called 
to  the  baby-carriage  behind  the  tree,  the  two  ladies 
drove  off. 

Ida  Mayberry  gazed  for  a  moment  at  the  parting 
vehicle,  and  then,  turning  to  Mr.  Beam,  she  said : 

"  She  might  at  least  have  thanked  me  for  getting 
her  out  of  that  scrape." 

"  Was  that  your  idea ! "  said  Lanigan. 

"  Of  course  it  was,"  said  the  young  woman :  u  if  I 
had  n't  shown  her  how  to  make  the  horse  back,  she 
would  have  pulled  her  arms  out  for  nothing.  It  is 
easy  to  see  that  she  does  not  know  anything  about 
managing  horses." 

Lanigan  laughed  outright. 

"  I  would  advise  you  not  to  say  that  to  her,"  he  said. 

"  I  would  as  soon  say  it  to  her  as  not,"  said  Ida ; 
"  somebody  ought  to  do  it.  Why,  if  that  horse  had 
shied  towards  me  instead  of  away  from  me  when  I 
jumped  from  that  tree,  I  might  have  been  very  much 
hurt." 

Lanigan  laughed  again,  but  this  time  inwardly. 

"  Do  you  like  yellow  flowers,  Miss  Mayberry  ? "  said 
he.  "  The  largest  wild  coreopsis  I  ever  saw  grows  in 
this  region.  I  noticed  some  in  a  field  we  just  passed. 
Shall  I  gather  a  few  for  you ! " 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  that  flower,"  said  Ida ;  and  Mr. 
Beam  declaring  that  if  she  would  step  a  little  way 
with  him  he  would  show  her  a  whole  field  of  them, 
the  two  walked  up  the  road. 

Walter  Lodloe  had  been  gazing  with  some  dissatis 
faction  at  the  departing  phaeton.  His  mind  was  get 
ting  into  a  condition  which  made  it  unpleasant  for 


112 


THE  SQUIEEEL  INN. 


him  to  see  people  take  Mrs.  Gristle  away  from  him. 
He  now  turned  and  looked  at  the  baby-carriage,  in 
which  the  infant  Douglas  was  sitting  up;  endeavoring 
by  various  noises  to  attract  attention  to  himself. 
Lodloe  pulled  the  vehicle  into  the  road,  and,  finding 

that  the  motion  quieted 
its  occupant,  he  began 
slowly  to  push  it  towards 
the  Squirrel  Inn.  When 
"Walter  Lodloe  turned 
into  the  open  space  about 
the  inn  he  met  Mr.  Tip- 
pengray  with  a  book  in 
his  hand. 

"  Really,"  said  the  lat 
ter,  elevating  his  eye 
brows,  "  I  heard  the 

-HE   BEGAN   SLOWLY  TO  PUSH  IT  creaking    Qf    tnoge     little 
TOWARDS  THE  SQUIRREL  INN." 

wheels,  and  I — " 

"  Thought  Miss  Mayberry  was  making  them  creak," 
said  Lodloe.  "  But  she  is  not,  and  you  may  as  well 
postpone  the  lesson  I  suppose  you  want  to  give  her. 
She  is  at  present  taking  lessons  in  botany  from  an 
other  professor";  and  he  hereupon  stated  in  brief 
the  facts  of  the  desertion  of  the  infant  Douglas. 
"  Now  what  am  I  going  to  do  with  the  little  chap  ? " 
he  continued  ;  "  I  must  search  for  Mrs.  Fetter." 

"  Don't  do  that,"  said  the  Greek  scholar,  quickly ; 
"  it  would  look  badly  for  the  young  woman.  Let  me 
have  the  child  ;  I  will  take  care  of  it  until  she  comes. 
I  will  wheel  it  down  to  my  summer-house,  where  it  is 
cool  and  shady." 


THE  SQUIREEL  INN. 


113 


"  And  an  excellent  spot  to  teach  Greek,"  said  Lod- 
loe,  laughing. 

"A  capital  place,"  gaily  replied  Mr.  Tippengray, 
putting  his  book  into  his  pocket,  and  taking  hold  of 
the  handle  of  the  little  carriage,  elated  by  the  feeling 
that  in  so  doing  he  was 
also,  for  a  time,  getting 
a  hold  upon  Miss  May- 
berry. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued, 
"  it  is  just  the  place  for 
me ;  it  suits  me  in  all 
sorts  of  ways,  and  I  have 
a  mind  to  tell  you  of  a 
most  capital  joke  con 
nected  with  it.  It  is  too 
good  a  thing  to  keep  to 
myself  any  longer,  and  «T  W:LL  WHEEL  IT  DOWN  TO  MY 
now  that  I  know  you  so 
well,  I  am  perfectly  wil 
ling  to  trust  you.  Would  you  believe  it  ?  I  know  the 
Eockmores  of  German  town.  I  know  them  very  well, 
and  hate  them  for  a  lot  of  prigs.  But  I  never  told 
Stephen  Fetter.  Not  I.  In  some  way  or  other  he 
took  it  for  granted  that  I  did  not  possess  the  valuable 
acquaintanceship,  and  I  let  him  think  so.  Ha !  ha ! 
That 's  the  way  I  got  the  summer-house,  don't  you 
see?  Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

Lodloe  laughed.  "Your  secret  is  safe  with  me," 
said  he ;  and  the  two  having  reached  the  little  gar 
den,  he  left  the  Greek  scholar  and  went  to  his 
room. 


SUMMER-HOUSE,  WHERE   IT   IS 
COOL  AND   SHADY." 


114  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

When  Ida  Mayberry  had  her  arms  full  of  the  great 
yellow  flowers  she  suddenly  appreciated  the  fact  that 
she  must  be  a  long  way  from  the  baby,  and  ought 
immediately  to  return  to  it.  She  thereupon  hastened 
back  across  the  uneven  surface  of  the  field.  When 
she  reached  the  spot  where  the  baby  had  been  left,  no 
baby  was  there. 

"  My  goodness ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  Mr.  Lodloe  has. 
taken  the  child  away,  and  there  is  no  knowing  which 
way  he  has  gone." 

"  Oh,  the  youngster  ;s  all  right,"  said  Lanigan.  "  Sit 
down  and  rest  yourself,  and  we  will  walk  to  the  inn." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it !  "  exclaimed  Ida.  "  You  go  that 
way,  and  I  will  go  this,  and  if  you  see  him,  call  out 
as  loud  as  you  can." 

Very  reluctantly  Mr.  Beam  obeyed  orders,  and 
hurried  in  the  direction  of  the  highroad. 

As  he  sat  down  by  his  open  window  Walter  Lodloe 
looked  out  and  saw  Ida  Mayberry  running.  Instantly 
there  was  a  shout  from  the  summer-house  and  the 
wave  of  a  handkerchief.  Then  the  nurse-maid  ceased 
to  run,  but  walked  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the 
handkerchief- waver,  who  stood  triumphantly  point 
ing  to  the  baby-carriage.  After  a  glance  at  the  baby 
to  see  that  he  was  all  right,  Miss  Mayberry  seated 
herself  on  a  bench  in  the  shade,  and  took  off  her  hat. 
In  a  few  moments  the  Greek  scholar  was  seated  by 
her,  the  book  was  opened,  and  two  heads  were  to 
gether  in  earnest  study. 

About  ten  minutes  later  Lodloe  saw  Lanigan  Beam 
appear  upon  the  lawn,  walking  rapidly.  In  a  moment 
he  caught  sight  of  the  group  at  the  summer-house, 


THE  SQUIERBL  INN.  115 

and  stopped  short.  He  clenched  his  fists  and  slightly 
stamped  one  foot. 

Lodloe  now  gave  a  low  whistle,  and  Lanigan  glanc 
ing  upward  at  the  sound,  he  beckoned  to  him  to  come 
to  his  tower-room.  The  young  man  at  first  hesitated, 
and  then  walked  slowly  towards  the  little  garden,  and 
ascended  the  outside  stairway. 

Lodloe  greeted  him  with  a  smile. 

"As  you  seem  doubtful  about  joining  the  little 
company  down  there,  I  thought  I  would  ask  you  up 
here,"  he  said. 

Lanigan  walked  to  the  window  and  gazed  out  at 
the  summer-house. 

"  They  are  having  a  good,  cozy  time  of  it,"  said  he, 
"  but  that  won't  do.  That  sort  of  thing  has  got  to  be 
stopped." 

"  Why  won't  it  do  ?  "  asked  Lodloe.  "  What  is  the 
matter  with  it,  and  who  is  going  to  stop  it  ?  " 

"  It 's  sheer  nonsense,"  said  Beam,  turning  away 
from  the  window  and  throwing  himself  into  a  chair ; 
"  why  should  an  old  fellow  like  Tippengray  take  up 
all  the  spare  time  of  that  girl  ?  She  does  n't  need  to 
learn  anything.  From  what  she  has  said  to  me  I 
judge  that  she  knows  too  much  already." 

"  It  strikes  me,"  said  Lodloe,  "  that  if  he  likes  to 
teach  her,  and  she  likes  to  learn,  it  is  nobody's  business 
but  their  own,  unless  Mrs.  Cristie  should  think  that 
her  interests  were  being  neglected."  He  spoke  quietly, 
although  he  was  a  little  provoked  at  the  tone  of  his 
companion. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Beam,  stretching  his  legs  upon  a 
neighboring  chair,  "  I  object  to  that  intimacy  for  two 


116  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

reasons.  In  the  first  place,  it  keeps  me  away  from 
Miss  Mayberry,  and  I  am  the  sort  of  person  she 
ought  to  associate  with,  especially  in  her  vacation; 
and  in  the  second  place,  it  keeps  old  Tippengray  away 
from  Calthea  Rose.  That  is  bad,  very  bad.  Mrs. 
Fetter  tells  me  that  before  Miss  Mayberry  arrived 
Calthea  and  the  Greek  were  as  chummy  and  as  happy 
together  as  any  two  people  could  be.  It  is  easy  to 
see  that  Calthea  is  dead  in  love  with  him,  and  if  she 
had  been  let  alone  I  am  confident  she  would  have 
married  him  before  the  summer  was  over." 

"  And  you  think  that  desirable  ? "  asked  Lodloe. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  cried  Lanigan,  sitting  up  straight 
in  his  chair  and  speaking  earnestly ;  "  it  would  be  the 
best  thing  in  the  world.  Calthea  has  had  a  hard 
time  with  her  various  engagements, — all  of  them  with 
me, —  and  now  that  she  has  found  the  man  she  likes 
she  ought  to  have  him.  It  would  be  a  splendid 
match ;  he  might  travel  where  he  pleased,  and  Calthea 
would  be  an  honor  to  him.  She  could  hold  her  own 
with  the  nobility  and  gentry,  and  the  crowned  heads, 
for  that  matter.  By  George  !  it  would  make  him 
two  inches  taller  to  walk  through  a  swell  crowd  with 
Calthea  on  his  arm,  dressed  as  she  would  dress,  and 
carrying  her  head  as  she  would  carry  it." 

"  You  seem  to  be  a  matchmaker,"  said  Lodloe ;  "  but 
I  don't  meddle  in  that  sort  of  thing.  I  greatly  pre 
fer  to  let  people  take  care  of  their  own  affairs ;  but  I 
feel  bound  to  say  to  you  that  after  Ida  Mayberry 
neglected  her  duty  to  go  off  with  you,  I  determined 
to  advise  Mrs.  Cristie  to  dispense  with  the  services  of 
such  a  very  untrustworthy  nurse-maid." 


THE  SQUIEEEL  INN.  117 

Lanigan  Beam  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Don't  you  do 
that ! "  he  cried.  "  I  beg  of  you  not  to  do  that." 

"  Why  not  ? "  said  Lodloe.  "  That  would  aid  your 
philanthropic  plan  in  regard  to  Miss  Rose  and  Mr. 
Tippengray.  The  maid  away,  there  is  no  reason  why 
they  should  not  come  together  again." 

"  Now  I  am  a  straightforward,  honest  man,"  said 
Lanigan,  "  and  I  tell  you  plainly  that  that  would  be 
:  very  hard  on  me.  I  've  come  here  to  my  native  place 
to  settle  down,  and  if  I  settle  I  've  got  to  marry,  and 
I  have  never  seen  a  girl  whom  I  would  rather  marry 
and  settle  with  than  Miss  Mayberry.  She  may  be  a 
little  slack  about  taking  care  of  the  baby,  but  I  '11 
talk  to  her  about  that,  and  I  know  she  will  keep  a 
closer  eye  on  him.  Now  if  you  want  to  see  every 
body  happy,  don't  prejudice  Mrs.  Cristie  against  that 
girl.  Give  me  a  chance,  and  I  '11  win  her  into  the 
right  way,  and  I  '11  do  it  easily  and  naturally,  with 
out  making  hard  blood  or  hurting  anybody.  Then 
old  Tip  and  Calthea  will  come  together  again,  and 
everything  will  be  jolly.  Now  don't  you  go  and  blast 
the  happiness  of  all  of  us,  and  get  that  poor  girl 
turned  off  like  a  drunken  cook.  And  as  for  taking 
good  care  of  the  baby,  just  look  at  her  now." 

Lodloe  looked  out  of  the  window.  Ida  Mayberry 
was  leaning  forward  on  the  bench,  twirling  a  great 
yellow  flower  before  the  child,  who  was  laughing  and 
making  snatches  at  it.  In  a  moment  appeared  Mr. 
Tippengray  with  a  large  white  daisy ;  he  leaned  over 
the  other  side  of  the  carriage  and  twirled  his  flower 
in  front  of  the  baby.  The  little  fellow  was  in  great 
glee,  first  clutching  at  one  blossom  and  then  at  the 


118 


THE   SQUIRREL   INN. 


other,  and  Mr.  Tippengray  laughed,  and  Miss  May- 
berry  laughed,  and  the  three  laughed  together. 

"  Confound  it !  "  said  Lanigan  Beam,  with  a  frown, 
"this  thing  must  be  stopped." 

Lodloe  smiled.  "  Work  matters  your  own  way,"  he 
said ;  "  I  shall  not  interfere." 

An  hour  later  when  Calthea  Rose  and  Mrs.  Cristie 
returned  from  Ronmey,  Ida  Mayberry  was  walking 


"HE  LEANED  OVER  THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  CARRIAGE." 

by  the  side  of  the  baby-carriage,  which  Lanigan  Beam 

was  pushing  towards  the  spot  from  which  there  was 

the  best  view  of  the  western  sky. 

Mrs.  Cristie  looked  at  them,  and  said  to  herself : 
"  I  don't  altogether  like  that  sort  of  thing,  and  I 

think  it  must  be  stopped." 

Calthea  Rose  appeared  to  have  recovered  her  good 

humor.      She  looked  about  her  apparently  satisfied 

with  the  world  and  its  ways,  and  readily  accepted 

Mrs.  Fetter's  invitation  to  stay  to  tea. 


XVI 

MESSRS.   BEAM  AND  LODLOE   DECLINE   TO  WAIT  FOR 
THE   SECOND   TABLE 


S  has  been  before  mentioned,  Walter 
Lodloe  had  grown  into  a  condition 
of  mind  which  made  it  unpleasant 
for  him  when  people  took  Mrs.  Ois- 
tie  away  or  occupied  her  time  and 
attention  to  the  exclusion  of  his 
occupancy  of  the  same.  As  a  literary  man  he  had 
taken  an  interest  in  studying  the  character  of  Mrs. 
Cristie,  and  he  had  now  come  to  like  the  character 
even  better  than  he  liked  the  study. 

A  pretty  woman,  of  a  lively  and  independent  dis 
position,  and  quick  wit,  and  yet  with  certain  matronly 
and  practical  points  in  her  character  which  always 
surprised  as  well  as  pleased  him  when  they  showed 
themselves,  Mrs.  Cristie  could  not  fail  to  charm  such 
a  man  as  Lodloe,  if  the  two  remained  long  enough 
together.  She  had  charmed  him,  and  he  knew  it  and 
liked  it,  and  was  naturally  anxious  to  know  whether, 
in  the  slightest  degree,  she  thought  of  him  as  he 
thought  of  her.  But  he  had  never  been  able  to  per 
ceive  any  indication  of  this.  The  young  widow  was 
kind,  gracious,  and  at  times  delightfully  intimate  with 

9  119 


120  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

him,  but  he  knew  enough  of  the  world  to  understand 
that  this  sort  of  thing  in  this  sort  of  place  might  not 
in  the  least  indicate  that  what  was  growing  up  in  him 
was  growing  up  in  her. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  after  Miss  Calthea 
Rose  had  taken  tea  at  the  Squirrel  Inn  Walter  Lod- 
loe  came  down  from  his  room  in  the  tower  with  no 
other  object  in  life  than  to  find  Mrs.  Cristie.  It  was 
about  the  hour  that  she  usually  appeared  on  the  lawn, 
and  if  there  should  follow  tennis,  or  talking,  or  walk 
ing,  or  anything  else,  one  thing  would  be  the  same 
as  another  to  Lodloe,  provided  he  and  she  took  part. 
But  when  he  saw  Mrs.  Cristie  her  avocation  was  one 
in  which  he  could  not  take  part. 

She  was  sitting  on  a  bench  by  Mr.  Tippengray,  Ida 
Mayberry  was  sitting  at  his  other  side,  and  the  ever 
lasting  baby-carriage  was  standing  near  by.  The 
Greek  scholar  and  the  nurse-maid  each  had  a  book, 
but  these  were  closed,  and  Mr.  Tippengray  was  talk 
ing  with  great  earnestness  and  animation,  while  the 
young  women  appeared  to  be  listening  with  eager 
interest.  It  was  plain  that  the  two  were  taking  a 
lesson  in  something  or  other. 

As  Lodloe  walked  slowly  from  the  gate  of  the  little 
garden  Mrs.  Cristie  looked  up  for  a  moment,  saw 
him,  but  instantly  resumed  her  attentive  listening. 
This  was  enough ;  he  perceived  that  for  the  present, 
at  least,  he  was  not  wanted.  He  strolled  on  towards 
the  field,  and  just  below  the  edge  of  the  bluff  he  saw 
Lanigan  Beam  sitting  under  a  tree. 

"  Hello  !  "  said  the  latter,  looking  up,  "  are  they  at 
that  stupid  business  yet  ?  " 


THE   SQU1EEEL  INN.  121 

Lodloe  smiled.  "  Are  you  waiting  for  Miss  May- 
berry  to  get  through  with  her  lesson  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  said  Lanigan.  "  I  have  been  hanging 
around  here  for  half  an  hour.  I  never  saw  such  a 
selfish  old  codger  as  that  Tippengray.  I  suppose  he 
will  stick  there  with  them  the  whole  afternoon." 

u  And  you  want  him  ! "  said  Lodloe. 

"  Want  him  ! "  exclaimed  Lanigan  ;  "  not  much. 
But  I  want  her.  If  there  were  only  two  together  I 
would  do  as  I  did  yesterday.  I  would  join  them,  take 
a  part,  and  before  long  carry  her  off ;  but  I  can't  do 
that  with  Mrs.  Cristie  there.  I  have  n't  the  cheek  to 
break  up  her  studies." 

Lodloe  laughed.  "  Don't  let  us  wait  for  the  second 
table,"  he  said ;  "  come  and  take  a  walk  to  Lethbury." 

It  was  now  Lanigan's  turn  to  smile. 

"You  think  you  would  better  not  wait  for  the 
second  table,"  he  said  ;  "  very  well,  then ;  come  on." 

The  lesson  on  the  bench  had  been  deliberately 
planned  by  Mrs.  Cristie.  She  had  been  considering 
the  subject  of  her  nurse-maid  and  Lanigan  Beam,  and 
had  decided  that  it  was  her  duty  to  interfere  with 
the  growth  of  that  intimacy.  She  felt  that  it  was  her 
duty  to  exercise  some  personal  supervision  over  the 
interests  of  the  young  person  in  her  service,  and  had 
given  her  some  guarded  advice  in  regard  to  country- 
resort  intimacies. 

Having  given  this  advice  to  Ida  Mayberry,  it  struck 
Mrs.  Cristie  that  it  would  apply  very  well  to  herself. 
She  remembered  that  she  was  also  a  young  person, 
and  she  resolved  to  take  to  herself  all  the  advice  she 
had  given  to  her  nurse-maid,  and  thus  it  was  that  she 


122  THE  SQUIEEEL  INN. 

was  sitting  on  the  bench  by  Mr.  Tippengray,  listening 
to  his  very  interesting  discourse  upon  some  of  the 
domestic  manners  and  customs  of  the  ancients,  and 
their  surprising  resemblance  in  many  points  to  those 
of  the  present  day.  Therefore  it  was,  also,  that  she 
allowed  Walter  Lodloe  to  pass  on  his  way  without 
inviting  him  to  join  the  party. 

When  Lodloe  and  Beam  reached  Lethbury,  the 
latter  proposed  that  they  should  go  and  worry  Cal- 
thea  Rose  ;  and  to  his  companion's  surprised  exclama 
tion  at  being  asked  to  join  in  this  diversion  Lanigaii 
answered,  that  having  been  used  to  that  sort  of  thing 
all  his  life,  it  seemed  the  most  natural  sport  in  which 
to  indulge  now  that  he  found  himself  in  Lethbury 
again. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Lodloe,  as  they  approached  Miss 
Rose's  place  of  business ;  "  I  shall  not  interfere  with 
your  native  sports,  but  I  do  not  care  to  join  them.  I 
shall  continue  my  walk,  and  stop  for  you  on  my  way 
back." 

When  Lanigan  Beam  entered  Miss  Rose's  shop  she 
was  sitting,  as  was  her  custom,  by  the  back  window, 
sewing.  A  neighbor  had  dropped  in  to  chat  with  her 
a  half-hour  before,  but  had  gone  away  very  soon. 
The  people  of  Lethbury  had  learned  to  understand 
when  Calthea  Rose  did  not  wish  to  chat. 

Miss  Calthea  was  not  happy ;  she  was  disappointed. 
Things  had  not  gone  as  she  hoped  they  would  go, 
and  as  she  had  believed  they  would  go  when  she 
accepted  Mrs.  Fetter's  invitation  to  tea.  That  meal 
had  been  a  very  pleasant  one ;  even  the  presence  of 
Ida  Mayberry,  who  came  to  table  with  the  family 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  123 

when  the  baby  happened  to  be  asleep,  did  not  disturb 
her.  On  the  contrary,  it  gratified  her,  for  Lanigan 
Beam  sat  by  that  young  person  and  was  very  atten 
tive  to  her.  She  carefully  watched  Mr.  Tippengray, 
and  perceived  that  this  attention,  and  the  interest  of 
the  child's  nurse  in  Lanigan's  remarks,  did  not  appear 
to  give  him  the  least  uneasiness.  Thereupon  she  be 
gan  gradually,  and  she  hoped  imperceptibly,  to  resume 
her  former  method  of  intercourse  with  the  Greek 
scholar,  and  to  do  so  without  any  show  of  restoring 
him  to  favor.  She  did  this  so  deftly  that  Mrs.  Cris- 
tie  was  greatly  interested  in  the  performance,  and  an 
outside  observer  could  have  had  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  there  had  been  any  break  in  the  friendly  inter 
course  between  Miss  Rose  and  Mr.  Tippengray. 

But  this  unsatisfactory  state  of  things  soon  came 
to  an  end.  When  the  daylight  began  to  wane,  and 
Miss  Calthea's  phaeton  had  been  brought  to  the  door, 
she  went  to  it  with  her  plans  fully  formed.  As  Mr. 
Tippengray  assisted  her  into  the  vehicle,  she  intended 
to  accept  his  proposition  to  drive  her  to  Lethbury. 
She  had  slightly  deferred  her  departure  in  order  that 
the  growing  duskness  might  give  greater  reason  for 
the  proposition.  There  would  be  a  moon  about  nine 
o'clock,  and  his  walk  back  would  be  pleasant. 

But  when  she  reached  the  phaeton  Mr.  Tippengray 
was  not  there.  Ida  Mayberry,  eager  to  submit  to  his 
critical  eye  two  lines  of  Browning  which  she  had  put 
into  a  sort  of  Greek  resembling  the  partly  cremated 
corpse  of  a  dead  language,  and  who  for  the  past  ten 
minutes  had  been  nervously  waiting  for  Master  Doug 
las  to  close  his  eyes  in  sleep  that  she  might  rush  down 


124  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

to  Mr.  Tippengray  while  he  was  yet  strolling  on  the 
lawn  by  himself,  had  rushed  down  to  him,  and  had 
made  him  forget  everything  else  in  the  world  in  his 
instinctive  effort  to  conceal  from  his  pupil  the  shock 
given  him  by  the  sight  of  her  lines.  He  had  been 
waiting  for  Miss  Calthea  to  come  out,  had  been  in 
tending  to  hand  her  to  her  vehicle,  and  had  thought 
of  proposing  to  accompany  her  to  the  village ;  but 
he  had  not  heard  the  phaeton  roll  to  the  door,  the 
leave-taking  on  the  porch  did  not  reach  his  ear,  and 
his  mind  took  no  note  whatever  of  the  fact  that  Miss 
Rose  was  on  the  point  of  departure. 

As  that  lady,  stepping  out  upon  the  piazza,  swept 
her  eyes  over  the  scene  and  beheld  the  couple  on  the 
lawn,  she  gave  a  jerk  to  the  glove  she  was  drawing 
on  her  hand  that  tore  in  it  a  slit  three  inches  long. 
She  then  turned  her  eyes  upon  her  phaeton,  declined 
the  offer  of  Mr.  Fetter  to  see  her  home,  and,  after  a 
leave-taking  which  was  a  little  more  effusive  than 
was  usual  with  her,  drove  herself  to  Lethbury.  If  the 
sorrel  horse  had  behaved  badly  in  the  early  part  of 
that  afternoon,  he  was  punished  for  it  in  the  early 
part  of  that  evening,  for  he  completely  broke  all 
previous  records  of  time  made  between  the  Squirrel 
Inn  and  Lethbury. 

Thus  the  hopes  of  Miss  Calthea  had  been  doubly 
darkened;  the  pariah  with  the  brimstone  blossoms 
had  not  only  treacherously  deserted  Lanigan,  but 
had  made  Mr.  Tippengray  treacherously  desert  her. 
She  had  been  furiously  angry ;  now  she  was  low- 
spirited  and  cross.  But  one  thing  in  the  world  could 
have  then  cheered  her  spirits,  and  that  would  have 


THE  SQUIEREL  INN.  125 

been  the  sight  of  her  bitterest  enemy  and  Lanigan 
Beam  driving  or  walking  together  past  her  shop  door ; 
but  when  Lanigan  alone  entered  that  shop  door  she 
was  not  cheered  at  all. 

Mr.  Beam's  greeting  was  very  free  and  uncere 
monious,  and  without  being  asked  to  do  so  he  took  a 
seat  near  the  proprietress  of  the  establishment. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  said,  "  this  looks  like  old  times. 
Why,  Calthy,  I  don't  believe  you  have  sold  a  thing 
since  I  was  here  last." 

"  If  you  had  any  eyes  in  your  head,"  said  Miss  Cal- 
thea,  severely,  "you  would  see  that  I  have  sold  a 
great  deal.  Nearly  everything,  in  fact." 

"  That  proves  my  point,"  said  Lanigan;  "for  nearly 
everything  was  gone  when  I  left." 

"  And  some  of  the  things  that  are  gone,"  said  she, 
"  you  still  owe  me  for." 

u  Well  put,  Calthy,"  said  Lanigan,  laughing ;  "  and 
after  that,  let 's  drop  the  business.  What 's  new  and 
what 's  stale  in  Lethbury  ? " 

"  You  are  about  the  newest  as  well  as  the  stalest 
thing  here,"  said  she. 

Lanigan  whistled.  "  Calthy,"  said  he,  "  would  you 
mind  my  smoking  a  cigar  here  ?  There  will  be  no 
customers  coming  in." 

"  You  know  very  well  you  cannot  smoke  here,"  she 
said ;  "  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  Has  that  pin 
cushion-faced  child's  nurse  driven  you  from  the  inn  ? " 

A  pang  went  through  Lauigan.  Was  Calthea 
jealous  of  Miss  Mayberry  on  his  account?  The 
thought  frightened  him.  If  he  could  have  said  any 
thing  which  would  have  convinced  Calthea  that  he  was 


126  THE  SQUIEEEL  INN. 

on  the  point  of  marrying  Miss  Mayberry,  and  that 
therefore  she  might  as  well  consider  everything  at  an 
end  between  herself  and  him,  he  would  have  said  it. 
But  he  merely  replied : 

"  She  is  a  nice  girl,  and  very  much  given  to  learn 
ing." 

Now  Miss  Calthea  could  restrain  herself  no  longer. 

"  Learning ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  Stuff  and  deception ! 
Impudent  flirting  is  what  she  is  fond  of,  as  long  as  she 
can  get  a  good-for-naught  like  you,  or  an  old  num 
skull  like  that  Tippengray,  to  play  her  tricks  on." 

Now  Lanigan  Beam  braced  himself  for  action.  This 
sort  of  thing  would  not  do ;  whatever  she  might  say 
or  think  about  the  rest  of  the  world,  Calthea  must  not 
look  with  disfavor  on  the  Greek  scholar. 

"  Numskull ! "  said  he.  "  You  're  off  the  track  there, 
Calthy.  I  never  knew  a  man  with  a  better  skull  than 
Mr.  Tippengray,  and  as  to  his  being  old  —  there  is  a 
little  gray  in  his  hair  to  be  sure,  but  it 's  my  opinion 
that  that  comes  more  from  study  than  from  years." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Calthea;  "I  don't  believe  he 
cares  a  snap  for  study  unless  he  can  do  it  with  some 
girl.  I  expect  he  has  been  at  that  all  his  life." 

Now  Lanigari's  spirits  rose ;  he  saw  that  it  was 
not  on  his  account  that  Calthea  was  jealous  of  Ida 
Mayberry.  His  face  put  on  an  expression  of  serious 
interest,  and  he  strove  to  speak  impressively,  but  not 
so  much  so  as  to  excite  suspicion. 

"  Calthea,"  said  he,  "  I  think  you  are  not  treating 
Mr.  Tippengray  with  your  usual  impartiality  and 
fairness.  From  what  I  have  seen  of  him,  I  am  sure 
that  the  great  object  of  his  life  is  to  teach,  and  when 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  127 

he  gets  a  chance  to  do  that  he  does  it,  and  for  the 
moment  forgets  everything  else.  You  may  be  right 
in  thinking  that  he  prefers  to  teach  young  persons, 
and  this  is  natural  enough,  for  young  people  are 
much  more  likely  than  older  ones  to  want  to  learn. 
Now,  to  prove  that  he  does  n't  care  to  teach  young 
girls  just  because  they  are  girls,  I  will  tell  you  that 
I  saw  him,  this  very  afternoon,  hard  at  work  teaching 
Mrs.  Cristie  and  Ida  Mayberry  at  the  same  time,  and 
he  looked  twice  as  happy  as  when  he  was  instructing 
only  one  of  them.  If  there  were  enough  people  here 
so  that  he  could  make  up  a  class,  and  could  have 
a  sort  of  summer  school,  I  expect  he  would  be  the 
happiest  man  on  earth. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  is  Mr.  Tippen  gray's  fault,"  con 
tinued  Lanigan,  folding  his  hands  in  his  lap  and 
gazing  reflectively  at  his  outstretched  legs.  "  I  am 
afraid  that  he  gives  too  much  of  his  mind  to  teaching, 
and  neglects  other  things.  He  is  carried  away  by  his 
love  of  teaching,  and  when  he  finds  one  person,  or  a 
dozen  persons  who  want  to  learn,  he  neglects  his 
best  friends  for  that  one  person,  or  those  dozen  per 
sons.  He  ought  n't  to  do  it;  it  is  n't  right — but 
then,  after  all,  no  man  is  perfect,  and  I  suppose  the 
easiest  way  for  us  to  get  along  is  to  stop  looking  for 
perfection." 

Miss  Calthea  made  no  answer.  She  gazed  out  of 
the  window  as  if  she  was  mildly  impressed  with  a  solic 
itude  for  the  welfare  of  her  garden.  There  flitted 
into  her  mind  a  wavering,  indeterminate  sort  of  notion 
that  perhaps  Lanigan  was  a  better  fellow  than  he  used 
to  be,  and  that  if  she  should  succeed  in  her  great 


128  THE  SQUIEEEL  INN. 

purpose  it  might  not  be  necessary  that  he  should  go 
away.  But  still, —  and  here  prudence  stepped  in  front 
of  kindliness, — if  that  child's  nurse  remained  in  the 
neighborhood,  it  would  be  safer  if  Lanigan  kept  up 
his  interest  in  her;  and  if  she  ultimately  carried  him 
off,  that  was  his  affair. 

Leaning  forward,  Miss  Calthea  took  a  match  from 
a  box  on  a  shelf,  and  handed  it  to  Lanigan. 

"  You  may  as  well  smoke  if  you  want  to,"  she  said; 
"  it 's  not  likely  any  one  will  be  coming  in,  and  I  don't 
object  when  the  window  is  open." 

Gratefully  Lanigan  lighted  his  cigar. 

"  Calthy,  this  is  truly  like  old  times,"  he  said.  "And 
to  finish  up  with  Tippengray,  I  '11  say  that  if  Lodloe 
and  I  had  not  our  mind  so  filled  with  our  own  busi 
nesses  and  projects,  I  'd  get  him  to  go  in  with  me,  and 
help  make  up  a  class;  but  if  I  were  to  do  that,  per 
haps  people  might  say  that  all  I  wanted  was  to  get  in 
with  the  girls." 

Here  was  a  chance  for  Calthea  to  give  her  schemes 
a  little  push. 

"  There  is  only  one  girl,"  she  said,  "  who  would  be 
likely  to  take  part  in  that  sort  of  thing,  and  that  is  the 
child's  nurse  at  the  Squirrel  Inn  ;  but  if  she  really  is 
given  to  study,  I  suppose  she  might  help  you  to  im 
prove  your  mind,  and  if  you  are  what  you  used  to  be, 
it  will  stand  a  good  deal  of  improving." 

"  That  's  so,  Calthy,"  said  Lanigan ;  "  that  's  so." 
He  was  in  high  good  humor  at  the  turn  the  conver 
sation  had  taken,  but  did  his  best  to  repress  his  in 
clination  to  show  it.  "  It  might  be  well  to  go  in  for 
improvement.  I  '11  do  that,  anyway."  Lanigan  blew 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 


129 


out  a  long  whiff  of  purple  smoke.  "  Calthy  is  a  deep 
one,"  he  said  to  himself ;  "  she  wants  me  to  draw  off 
that  girl  from  the  old  man.  But  all  right,  my  lady ; 
you  tackle  him  and  I  will  tackle  her.  That  suits  me 
beautifully." 

At  this  moment  Lodloe  entered  the  shop,  and  Miss 
Calthea  Rose  greeted  him  with  much  graciousness. 


"CALTHY,  THIS  is  TRULY  LIKE  OLD  TIMES." 

"You  must  have  taken  a  short  walk,"  said  Lan. 
gan.  "  Don't  you  want  to  wait  until  I  finish  my  cigar  ? 
It 's  so  much  pleasanter  to  smoke  here  than  in  the 
open  air.  Perhaps  Miss  Calthea  will  let  you  join  me." 

Lodloe  was  perfectly  willing  to  wait,  but  did  not 
wish  to  smoke.     He  was  interested  in  what  he  had 


130  THE  SQUIRREL  INN.. 

heard  of  the  stock  of  goods  which  was  being  sold  off 
about  as  fast  as  a  glacier  moves,  and  was  glad  to  have 
the  opportunity  to  look  about  him. 

"  Do  you  know,  Calthy,"  said  Lanigan,  "  that  you 
ought  to  sell  Mr.  Lodloe  a  bill  of  goods  ? "  He  said 
this  partly  because  of  his  own  love  of  teasing,  but 
partly  in  earnest.  To  help  Calthea  sell  off  her  stock 
was  an  important  feature  of  his  project. 

"  Mr.  Lodloe  shall  not  buy  a  thing,"  said  Calthea 
Rose.  "If  he  is  ever  in  want  of  anything,  and  stops 
in  here  to  see  if  I  have  it  in  stock,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
sell  it  to  him  if  it  is  here,  for  I  am  still  in  business ; 
but  I  know  very  well  that  Mr.  Lodloe  came  in  now  as 
an  acquaintance  and  not  as  a  customer." 

"  Beg  your  pardons,  both  of  you,"  cried  Lani- 
gan,  springing  to  his  feet,  and  throwing  the  end  of 
his  cigar  out  of  the  window;  "but  I  say,  Calthy, 
have  you  any  of  that  fire-blaze  calico  with  the 
rocket  sparks  that 's  been  on  hand  ever  since  I  can 
remember  ? " 

"Your  memory  is  pretty  short  sometimes,"  said 
Calthea,  "  but  I  think  I  know  the  goods  you  mean, 
and  I  have  seven  yards  of  it  left.  Why  do  you  ask 
about  it  ? " 

"  I  want  to  see  it,"  said  Lanigan.  "  There  it  is  on 
that  shelf ;  it 's  the  same-sized  parcel  that  it  used  to 
ue.  Would  you  mind  handing  it  down  to  me?" 

Lanigan  unrolled  the  calico  upon  the  counter,  and 
gazed  upon  it  with  delight.  "  Is  n't  that  glorious  !  " 
he  cried  to  Lodloe  ;  "  is  n't  that  like  a  town  on  fire  ! 
By  George!  Calthea,  I  will  take  the  whole  seven 
yards." 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  131 

"Now,  Lanigan,"  said  Miss  Calthea,  "you  know 
you  have  n't  the  least  use  in  the  world  for  this 
calico." 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Lanigan;  "I 
have  a  use  for  it.  I  want  to  make  Mrs.  Fetter  a 
present,  and  I  have  been  thinking  of  a  fire-screen, 
and  this  is  just  the  thing  for  it.  I  '11  build  the  frame 
myself,  and  I  '11  nail  on  this  calico,  front  and  back 
the  same.  It  '11  want  a  piece  of  binding,  or  gimp, 
tacked  around  the  edges.  Have  you  any  binding,  or 
gimp,  Calthy,  that  would  suit  ?  " 

Miss  Calthea  laughed.  "  You  'd  better  wait  until 
you  are  ready  for  it,"  she  said,  "  and  then  come  and 
see." 

"  Anyway,  I  want  the  calico,"  said  he.  "  Please  put 
it  aside  for  me,  and  I  '11  come  in  to-morrow  and 
settle  for  it.  And  now  it  seems  to  me  that  if  we 
want  any  supper  we  had  better  be  getting  back  to 
the  inn." 

"It  's  not  a  bad  idea,"  said  Miss  Calthea  Rose, 
when  she  was  left  to  herself ;  "  but  it  shall  not  be  in 
a  class.  No,  indeed!  I  will  take  good  care  that  it 
shall  not  be  in  a  class." 


XVII 

BANANAS   AND   OATS 

HEN  Walter  Lodloe  walked  to  Leth- 
bury  because  he  could  not  talk  to 
Mrs.  Gristle,  it  could  not  have  been 
reasonably  supposed  that  his  walk 
would  have  had  more  practical  in 
fluence  on  his  feelings  towards  that 
lady  than  a  conversation  with  her  would  have  had; 
but  such  was  the  case. 

It  would  have  been  very  pleasant  to  talk,  or  walk, 
or  chat,  or  stroll,  or  play  tennis,  with  her,  but  when 
he  reached  the  quiet  little  village,  and  wandered  by 
himself  along  the  shaded  streets,  and  looked  into  the 
pretty  yards  and  gardens,  on  the  profusion  of  old- 
fashioned  flowers  and  the  cool  green  grass  under  the 
trees,  and  here  and  there  a  stone  well-curb  with  a 
great  sweep  and  an  oaken  bucket,  and  the  air  of 
quaint  comfort  which  seemed  to  invade  the  interiors 
of  those  houses  that  were  partly  opened  to  his  view, 
it  struck  him,  as  no  idea  of  the  sort  had  ever  struck 
him  before,  what  a  charming  and  all-satisfying  thing 
it  would  be  to  marry  Mrs.  Cristie  and  live  in  Leth- 
bury  in  one  of  these  cool,  quaint  houses  with  the 

132 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  133 

quiet  and  shade  and  the  flowers — at  least  for  a  few 
years  until  his  fortunes  should  improve. 

He  had  a  notion  that  Mrs.  Cristie  would  like  that 
sort  of  thing.  She  seemed  so  fond  of  country  life.  He 
would  write  and  she  would  help  him.  He  would  work 
in  the  vegetable  garden,  and  she  among  the  flowers.  It 
would  be  Arcadia,  and  it  would  be  cheap.  Even  with 
his  present  income  every  rural  want  could  be  satisfied. 

An  infusion  of  feasibility — or  what  he  looked  upon 
as  such — into  the  sentimentality  of  such  a  man  as 
"Walter  Lodloe  generally  acts  as  a  stiffener  to  his  pur 
poses.  He  was  no  more  in  love  with  Mrs.  Cristie 
than  he  had  been  when  he  left  the  Squirrel  Inn,  but 
he  now  determined,  if  he  saw  any  reason  to  suppose 
that  she  would  accept  them,  to  offer  himself  and  a 
Lethbury  cottage  to  Mrs.  Cristie. 

He  had  a  good  opportunity  to  think  over  this  mat 
ter  and  come  to  decisions,  for  his  companion  walked 
half  the  way  home  without  saying  a  word. 

Suddenly  Lanigan  spoke. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  he,  "  that  I  have  about  made 
up  my  mind  to  marry  the  governess  ?  " 

"  She  is  n't  a  governess,"  said  Lodloe  j  "  she  is  a 
nurse-maid." 

"  I  prefer  to  invest  her  with  a  higher  grade,"  said 
Lanigau ;  "  and  it  is  pretty  much  the  same  thing, 
after  all.  Anyway,  I  want  to  marry  her,  and  I 
believe  I  can  do  it  if  nobody  steps  in  to  interfere." 

"  Who  do  you  suppose  would  do  that  ? "  asked 
Lodloe. 

"  Well,"  said  Lanigan,  "  if  the  Lethbury  people 
knew  about  it,  and  had  a  chance,  every  man  jack  of 


134  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

them,  and  every  woman  jack,  too,  would  interfere, 
and  under  ordinary  circumstances  Calthea  Rose 
would  take  the  lead ;  but  just  now  I  think  she  intends 
to  lend  me  a  hand — not  for  my  good,  but  for  her 
own.  If  she  does  that,  I  am  not  afraid  of  all  Leth- 
bury  and  the  Fetters  besides.  The  only  person  I  am 
afraid  of  is  Mrs.  Cristie." 

"  Why  do  you  fear  her  ? "  asked  Lodloe. 

"Well,"  said  Lanigan,  "when  she  was  at  the  inn 
some  years  ago  I  was  at  my  wildest,  and  her  husband 
did  not  like  me.  He  was  in  bad  health,  very  touchy, 
and  I  suppose  I  gave  him  reason  enough  to  consider 
me  an  extremely  black  sheep.  Of  course  Mrs.  Cris 
tie  naturally  thought  pretty  much  as  he  did,  and 
from  what  you  told  me  of  the  conference  over  my 
advent,  I  suppose  her  opinions  have  n't  changed 
much.  She  has  treated  me  very  well  since  I  have 
been  here,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  would  con 
sider  it  her  duty  to  let  Miss  Mayberry  know  just  the 
sort  of  fellow  she  thinks  I  am." 

"  Of  course  she  would  do  that,"  said  Lodloe ;  "  and 
she  ought  to  do  it." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Lanigan ;  "  you  are  wrong,  and  I 
am  going  to  prove  it  to  you,  and  you  shall  see  that  I 
trust  you  as  if  I  had  known  you  years  instead  of 
days.  I  want  you  to  understand  that  I  am  not  the 
same  sort  of  fellow  that  I  used  to  be,  not  by  any 
means.  I  told  old  Fetter  that,  so  that  he  might  have 
a  little  practice  in  treating  me  with  respect,  but  I 
did  n't  give  him  any  reasons  for  it,  because  Calthea 
Rose  would  be  sure  to  suspect  that  he  knew  some 
thing,  and  she  'd  worm  it  out  of  him ;  but  I  don't 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  135 

believe  she  could  worm  anything  out  of  you.  When 
I  left  this  place  some  eighteen  months  ago  I  went 
down  to  Central  America  and  bought  a  banana  farm, 
paying  very  little  money  down.  In  less  than  three 
months  I  sold  my  land  to  a  company,  and  made  a 
very  good  thing  out  of  it.  Then,  thinking  the  com 
pany  after  a  while  might  want  more  land,  I  bought 
another  large  tract,  and  before  the  end  of  the  year  I 
sold  that  to  them,  doubling  my  money.  Then  I  left 
the  tropics,  fearing  I  might  go  too  deep  into  that  sort 
of  speculation  and  lose  every  cent  I  had.  I  traveled 
around,  and  at  last  landed  in  Chicago,  and  here  the 
money-making  fever  seized  me  again.  It  is  a  new 
thing  to  me,  and  a  lot  more  intoxicating,  I  can  tell 
you.  I  invested  in  oats,  and  before  I  knew  it  that 
blessed  grain  went  up  until,  if  its  stalks  had  been  as 
high  as  its  price,  it  would  have  been  over  my  head.  I 
sold  out,  and  then  I  said  to  myself :  '  Now,  Lanigan, 
my  boy,  if  you  don't  want  to  be  a  beastly  pauper  for 
the  rest  of  your  life,  you  had  better  go  home.'  Hon 
estly,  I  was  frightened,  and  it  seemed  to  me  I  should 
never  be  safe  until  I  was  back  in  Lethbury.  Look 
here,"  he  said,  taking  from  a  pocket  a  wallet  filled 
with  a  mass  of  papers  and  a  bank-book;  "look  at 
those  certificates,  and  here  is  my  New  York  bank 
book,  so  you  can  see  that  I  am  not  telling  you  lies. 

"  Now  you  may  say  that  the  fact  of  my  having 
money  does  n't  prove  that  I  am  any  better  than  I 
used  to  be,  but  if  you  think  that,  you  are  wrong. 
There  is  no  better  way  to  reform  a  fellow  than  to 
give  him  something  to  take  care  of  and  take  an 
interest  in.  That 's  my  case  now,  and  all  I  've  got 


136  THE   SQUIREEL  INN. 

I  Ve  given  myself,  which  makes  it  better,  of  course. 
I  'm  not  rich,  but  I  Ve  got  enough  to  buy  out  any 
business  in  Lethbury.  And  to  go  into  business  and 
to  live  here  are  what  will  suit  me  better  than  anything 
else,  and  that 's  not  counting  in  Ida  Mayberry  at  all. 
To  live  here  with  her  would  be  better  luck  than  the 
biggest  rise  in  oats  the  world  ever  saw.  Now  you 
see  where  I  stand.  If  Mrs.  Cristie  goes  against  me, 
she  does  a  cruel  thing  to  me,  and  to  Ida  Mayberry 
besides." 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  her  the  facts  ?  "  said  Lodloe. 
"  That  would  be  the  straightforward  and  sensible 
thing  to  do." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  Lanigan,  "  I  cannot  put  the 
facts  into  the  hands  of  a  woman.  No  matter  how 
noble  or  honorable  she  may  be,  without  the  least 
intention  on  her  part  they  would  leak  out,  and  if 
Calthea  Rose  should  get  hold  of  them  I  should  be 
lost.  She'd  drop  old  Tippengray  like  a  hot  potato 
and  stick  to  me  like  one  of  those  adhesive  plasters 
that  have  holes  in  them.  No,  sir ;  I  don't  want  Cal 
thea  Rose  to  think  well  of  me.  I  want  her  to  keep  on 
considering  me  as  a  good-for-nothing  scapegrace,  and, 
by  George !  it 's  easy  enough  to  make  her  do  that. 
It 's  all  in  her  line  of  business.  But  I  want  other 
people  to  think  well  of  me  in  a  general  way,  and 
when  Calthea  and  Tippengray  have  settled  things 
between  them,  and  are  traveling  on  the  Continent, 
which  they  certainly  ought  to  do,  I  '11  start  in  business, 
and  take  my  place  as  one  of  the  leading  citizens  of 
Lethbury ;  and,  as  things  look  now,  all  will  be  plain 
sailing  if  Mrs.  Cristie  thinks  well  enough  of  me  not 


THE   SQUIREEL  INN.  137 

to  interfere  between  me  and  Ida  Mayberry.  Now  all 
I  ask  of  you  is  to  say  a  good  word  for  me  if  you  can 
get  a  chance." 

"  After  what  you  have  told  me,"  said  Lodloe,  "  I 
think  I  shall  say  it." 

"  Good  for  you ! "  cried  Lanigan.  "  And  if  I  go  to 

Calthy  and  ask  her  to  lend  me  the  money  to  get  a 

.  frame  made  for  Mrs.  Fetter's  fire-screen,  don't  you  be 

surprised.     What  I  'm  doing  is  just  as  much  for  her 

;  good  as  for  mine.     In  this  whole  world  there  could  n't 

be  a  better  match  for  her  than  old  Tippengray,  and 

she  knows  it,  and  wants  him." 

"  If  there  was  a  society  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty 
to  Greek  scholars,  I  don't  know  but  that  it  might 
interfere  in  this  case,"  said  Lodloe. 


XVIII. 


SWEET    PEAS. 

ALTER  LODLOE  was  now  as  much 
flushed  with  the  fever  of  love- 
making  as  Lanigan  Beam  had  been 
flushed  with  the  fever  of  money- 
making,  but  he  did  not  have  the 
other  man's  luck.  Mrs.  Cristie  gave 
him  few  opportunities  of  making  her  know  him  as 
he  wished  her  to  know  him.  He  had  sense  enough 
to  see  that  this  was  intentional,  and  that  if  he  made 
any  efforts  to  improve  his  opportunities  he  might 
drive  her  away. 

As  he  sat  at  his  tower  window,  his  fingers  in  his 
hair  and  his  mind  trying  to  formulate  the  prudent 
but  bold  thing  he  ought  to  do,  a  voice  came  up  from 
below.  It  was  that  of  Ida  Mayberry. 

"  Mr.  Lodloe !  Mr.  Lodloe !  "  she  cried ;  and  when 
he  had  put  his  head  out  of  the  window  she  called  to 
him : 

"  Don't  you  want  to  come  down  and  help  us  teach 
Mr.  Tippengray  to  play  tennis?     He  has  taught  us 
so  much  that  we  are  going  to  teach  him  something." 
"  Who  are  going  to  teach  ?  "  asked  Lodloe. 

138 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  139 

"Mrs.  Cristie  and  I,"  said  Ida.    "  Will  you  come ? " 

Instantly  consenting,  Lodloe  drew  in  his  head,  his 
love  fever  rising. 

The  Greek  scholar  was  one  of  the  worst  tennis- 
players  in  the  world.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  game, 
and  did  not  appear  capable  of  learning  it.  And  yet 
when  Lanigan  Beam  appeared,  having  just  arrived 
on  horseback  from  Romney,  Mrs.  Cristie  would  not 
allow  the  Greek  scholar  to  give  up  his  place  to  the 
younger  man.  She  insisted  on  his  finishing  the 
game,  and  when  it  was  over  she  declared  the  morning 
too  warm  to  play  any  more. 

As  she  and  Lodloe  stood  together  for  a  moment, 
their  rackets  still  in  their  hands,  Mrs.  Cristie  smiled, 
but  at  the  same  time  frowned. 

"  It  is  too  provoking,"  she  said ;  "  I  wish  Douglas 
would  wake  up  and  scream  his  very  loudest.  I  was 
just  on  the  point  of  asking  Ida  to  go  with  me  into 
the  garden  to  pick  sweet  peas,  when  Mr.  Beam  hands 
her  that  horrible  bunch  of  wild  flowers,  crammed  full 
of  botany,  I've  no  doubt.  And  now  just  look  at 
them !  Before  one  could  say  a  word,  there  they  are 
on  that  bench,  heads  together,  and  pulling  the  weeds 
to  pieces.  Think  of  it!  Studying  botany  with  him, 
and  Mr.  Tippengray  on  the  same  lawn  with  her ! " 

<(  Oh,  he 's  too  hot  to  teach  anything,"  said  Lodloe. 
"  You  don't  seem  to  approve  of  Mr.  Beam's  attentions 
to  that  young  woman." 

"  I  do  not,"  said  she.  "  You  know  what  he  is  as 
well  as  I  do." 

"  Better,"  said  Lodloe.  For  a  moment  he  paused, 
and  then  continued :  "  Mrs.  Cristie,  I  wish  you  would 


140  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

let  me  go  into  the  garden  with  you  to  pick  sweet  peas 
and  to  talk  about  Mr.  Beam." 

"  Mr.  Beam  ?  "  she  repeated. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lodloe ;  "  I  wish  very  much  to  speak  to 
you  in  regard  to  him,  and  I  cannot  do  it  here  where 
we  may  be  interrupted  at  any  moment." 

As  a  young  and  pretty  woman  who  knew  her  at 
tractions,  and  who  had  made  resolutions  in  regard  to 
the  preponderance  of  social  intercourse  in  a  particu 
lar  direction,  Mrs.  Cristie  hesitated  before  answering. 
But  as  a  matron  who  should  know  all  about  a  young 
man  who  was  paying  very  special  attention  to  a 
younger  woman  in  her  charge,  she  accepted  the 
invitation,  and  went  into  the  garden  with  Lodloe. 

The  sweet  pea-blossoms  crowded  the  tall  vines 
which  lined  one  side  of  a  path,  and  as  she  picked 
them  he  talked  to  her. 

He  began  by  saying  that  he  had  noticed,  and  he 
had  no  doubt  that  she  had  noticed,  that  in  all  the 
plain  talk  they  had  heard  about  Mr.  Beam  there  had 
been  nothing  said  against  his  moral  character  except 
that  he  did  not  pay  his  debts  nor  keep  his  promises. 
To  this  Mrs.  Cristie  assented,  but  said  that  she 
thought  these  were  very  bad  things.  Lodloe  agreed 
to  this,  but  said  he  thought  that  when  a  young  man 
of  whom  even  professional  slanderers  did  not  say  that 
he  was  cruel,  or  that  he  gambled,  or  drank,  or  was  ad 
dicted  to  low  company  and  pursuits,  had  determined 
to  reform  his  careless  and  thoughtless  life,  he  ought 
to  be  encouraged  and  helped  in  every  possible  way. 
And  then  when  she  asked  him  what  reason  he  had  to 
suppose  that  Mr.  Beam  had  determined  to  reform,  he 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  141 

straightway  told  her  everything  about  Lanigan,  Chi 
cago  oats  and  all,  adding  that  the  young  man  did  not 
wish  him  to  say  anything  about  this  matter,  but  he 
had  taken  it  upon  himself  to  do  so  because  Mrs. 
Cristie  ought  to  know  it,  and  because  he  was  sure 
that  she  would  not  mention  it  to  any  one.  When  Mrs. 
Cristie  exclaimed  at  this,  and  said  that  she  thought 
that  the  sooner  everybody  knew  it  the  better,  Lodloe 
told  her  of  the  state  of  affairs  between  Calthea  Rose 
and  Lanigan  Beam,  and  why  the  latter  did  not  wish 
his  reform  to  be  known  at  present. 

Mrs.  Cristie  dropped  upon  the  ground  every  sweet- 
pea  blossom  she  had  gathered. 

"  I  cannot  imagine,"  she  said,  "  how  you  can  take 
the  part  of  a  man  who  would  deliberately  attempt 
to  lower  himself  in  the  eyes  of  one  woman  in  order 
that  he  might  have  a  better  chance  to  win  another 
woman." 

"  Mrs.  Cristie,"  said  Lodloe,  "  I  am  a  young  man, 
and  I  have  lived  much  among  young  men.  I  have 
seen  many  of  them  in  dangerous  and  troubled  waters, 
floating  down  to  ruin  and  destruction,  and  now  and 
then  I  have  seen  one  who  had  turned  and  was  trying 
to  strike  out  for  the  shore.  In  every  case  of  this 
kind  I  have  tried  to  give  the  poor  fellow  a  hand  and 
help  him  get  his  feet  on  firm  ground.  Sometimes  he 
jumped  in  again,  and  sometimes  he  did  n't,  but  all 
that  was  not  my  affair;  I  was  bound  to  help  him 
when  I  saw  him  facing  the  right  way,  and  that  is 
just  the  way  I  feel  about  young  Beam.  I  do  not 
approve  of  all  his  methods,  but  if  he  wants  moral 
support  I  say  he  ought  to  have  it." 


142  THE   SQUIEEEL  ^TN. 

Mrs.  Gristle  looked  at  the  pink,  blue,  and  purple 
blossoms  on  the  ground.  "  His  sentiments  are  good 
and  generous  ones,"  she  thought,  ''and  I  shall  not 
say  one  word  against  them,  but  Ida  Mayberry  shall 
not  marry  that  exceedingly  slippery  young  man,  and 
the  good  Mr.  Tippengray  shall  not  be  caught  by 
Calthea  Rose."  She  came  to  this  resolution  with 
much  firmness  of  purpose,  but  as  she  was  not  pre 
pared  to  say  anything  on  the  subject  just  then,  she 
looked  up  very  sweetly  at  Lodloe,  and  said : 

"  Suppose  we  drop  Mr.  Beam." 

He  looked  for  an  instant  into  her  eyes. 

"  Gladly,"  he  exclaimed,  with  an  impulse  like  a 
lightning-flash,  "  and  speak  of  Walter  Lodloe." 

"  Of  you  ? "  she  said. 

"  Yes,  of  me,"  he  replied ;  "  of  myself,  of  a  man 
who  has  no  scheme,  no  plan,  no  concealments,  and 
who  only  wishes  you  to  know  that  he  loves  you  with 
all  his  heart." 

She  looked  at  him  steadfastly  for  a  moment. 

"  Was  it  for  this,"  she  said,  "  that  you  asked  me  to 
come  with  you  and  pick  sweet-pea  blossoms?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  I  meant  no  more  than 
I  said,  and  thought  of  no  more.  But  the  flowers  we 
came  to  gather  you  have  dropped  upon  the  ground." 

"  They  can  easily  be  picked  up  again,"  she  said. 

"Not  at  all,"  he  cried,  and,  stepping  forward,  put 
his  foot  upon  the  fragrant  blossoms.  Then  with  a 
few  rapid  dashes  he  gathered  a  bunch  of  sweet  peas 
and  extended  them  towards  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  Will  you  not  take  these  instead ! "  he  said. 

She  put  her  hands  behind  her  back. 


"  WILL  YOU  NOT   TAKE  THESE  INSTEAD  ?  " 


144  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

"  I  do  not  mean,"  he  said,  speaking  low  but  strongly, 
"  that  in  accepting  them  you  accept  me.  I  only  want 
to  know  that  you  will  talk  to  me  of  what  I  said,  or  at 
any  rate  think  of  it." 

But  still  she  kept  her  hands  behind  her  back.  In 
her  heart  she  knew  that  she  wanted  those  flowers, 
but  the  knowledge  had  come  so  suddenly,  so  unex 
pectedly,  and  so  unreasonably,  that  she  did  not  even 
look  at  them,  and  clasped  her  fingers  together  more 
tightly. 

"Some  one  is  coming,"  said  Lodloe.  "Tell  me 
quickly,  must  these  flowers  be  dropped  ? " 

Steps  could  plainly  be  heard  not  far  away.  Mrs. 
Cristie  looked  up. 

"  I  will  take  one,"  she  said ;  "  the  very  smallest." 

He  thrust  the  bunch  of  flowers  towards  her,  and  she 
hastily  drew  from  it  one  which  happened  to  be  the 
largest  of  them  all. 

The  person  who  now  appeared  in  the  garden  walk 
was  Calthea  Rose.  She  experienced  no  emotions  but 
those  of  mild  amusement  at  seeing  these  two  together. 
At  present  she  did  not  care  very  much  about  either 
of  them,  although,  when  she  had  heard  of  the  ex 
pected  coming  of  the  young  widow,  she  had  been 
afraid  of  her,  and  was  prepared  to  dislike  her.  But 
finding  her,  as  she  supposed,  already  provided  with  a 
lover,  Calthea  was  quite  satisfied  with  Mrs.  Cristie. 
She  liked  Lodloe  on  general  principles,  because  he 
was  a  man.  Her  greeting  was  very  pleasant.  It 
often  happened  that  the  people  whom  Calthea  Rose 
neither  liked  nor  disliked  were  those  who  found  her 
the  most  pleasant. 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  145 

She  was  inclined  to  walk  on  and  leave  them  among 
the  sweet-pea  blossoms,  but  Mrs.  Cristie  would  not 
allow  this.  She  joined  Calthea,  and  the  three  went 
on  together.  When  they  stepped  upon  the  open  lawn, 
Calthea  gave  a  quick  glance  around,  and  the  result 
was  very  satisfactory.  Ida  Mayberry  and  Lanigan 
were  still  sitting  together  under  a  tree,  and  she  saw 
Mr.  Tippengray  talking  to  Mrs.  Fetter  not  far  from 
the  summer-house.  Nothing  could  be  better  arranged. 
Lanigan  was  on  the  right  road,  and  it  would  be  quite 
as  natural  for  her  immediately  to  join  Mrs.  Fetter  as 
it  would  be  easy  to  get  rid  of  her. 

The  party  separated,  Lodloe  going  to  his  room  and 
Calthea  walking  towards  the  summer-house.  She 
had  come  that  day  to  the  Squirrel  Inn  with  a  purpose ; 
she  was  going  to  be  taught  by  Mr.  Tippengray.  In 
this  world  we  must  adapt  ourselves  to  circumstances, 
and  she  was  going  to  adapt  herself  to  the  Greek 
scholar's  hobby.  She  was  a  sensible  woman,  and  did 
not  for  a  moment  purpose  to  ask  him  to  teach  her  the 
dead  languages,  philosophy,  or  science,  things  in 
which  he  knew  she  took  no  interest.  Indeed,  she 
would  not  ask  him  to  teach  her  anything,  but  she 
was  going  to  give  him  the  opportunity  to  do  so,  and 
she  was  quite  sure  that  that  would  be  sufficient  for 
her  purpose. 

She  intended  to  make  herself  an  audience  of  one, 
and  to  listen  in  a  way  she  knew  would  please  him  to 
the  recital  of  his  travels  and  experiences.  Of  these 
he  had  often  essayed  to  talk  to  her,  but  she  had  not 
encouraged  him.  She  never  liked  to  talk  upon  sub 
jects  of  which  other  people  knew  more  than  she  did, 


146  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

and  she  always  endeavored  to  bring  the  conversation 
into  a  channel  where  she  could  take  an  equal  part. 
If  she  could  lead,  so  much  the  better.  But  now  she 
was  going  to  let  Mr.  Tippengray  talk  to  her  just  as 
much  as  he  pleased,  and  tell  her  all  he  wanted  to  tell 
her.  She  now  knew  him  better  than  she  had  done 
before,  and  she  had  strong  hopes  that  by  this  new 
string  she  would  be  able  to  lead  him  from  the  Squir 
rel  Inn  to  Lethbury  whenever  she  chose. 

Mrs.  Fetter  had  long  been  accustomed  to  look  upon 
Calthea  Rose  as  a  person  whose  anger  would  blaze  up 
very  suddenly,  but  would  go  out  quite  as  promptly  — 
which  was  true,  when  Miss  Calthea  chose  to  put  it  out 
—  but  she  was  a  little  surprised  that  Calthea,  after  so 
recently  going  away  in  a  huff,  should  treat  Mr.  Tip 
pengray  with  such  easy  friendliness.  If  the  Greek 
scholar  himself  felt  surprised,  he  did  not  show  it,  for 
he  was  always  ready  to  meet  a  cordial  overture. 

Miss  Calthea  had  just  accepted  an  invitation  to  be 
seated  in  the  shade, —  which  she  knew  would  very  soon 
be  followed  by  Mrs.  Fetter's  going  into  the  house,  for 
that  good  woman  was  seldom  content  to  sit  long  out 
of  doors, —  when  up  stepped  Ida  Mayberry. 

"Mr.  Tippengray,"  said  she  in  the  clear,  distinct 
way  in  which  she  always  spoke,  "  here  is  something 
which  I  have  been  trying  to  explain  to  Mr.  Beam,  but 
I  am  afraid  I  have  n't  a  quite  correct  idea  about  it 
myself.  Will  you  please  read  it,  and  tell  me  how  it 
strikes  you  ?  " 

This  was  too  much  for  the  patience  of  Calthea  Rose. 
Her  resolutions  of  geniality  and  good  nature  could 
not  stand  for  a  moment  against  such  an  interruption 


148  THE   SQUIRREL   INN. 

at  such  a  time.  She  turned  sharply  upon  the  nurse 
maid,  and,  without  attempting  to  disguise  her  feel 
ings,  said  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  person  so  anxious 
to  learn  would  be  much  better  employed  in  attending 
to  her  business  and  in  trying  to  learn  something 
about  babies  than  in  interrupting  conversation  in 
this  impertinent  way. 

"  Learn  something  about  babies ! "  exclaimed  Miss 
Mayberry.  "  Nobody  knows  more  about  babies  than 
I  do  —  I  have  dissected  one." 

At  this  Mrs.  Fetter  gave  a  cry  of  horror,  and  Miss 
Calthea  stepped  back,  speechless  with  amazement. 
As  for  the  Greek  scholar,  he  suddenly  retired  to  a 
little  distance  and  leaned  over  a  bench,  his  back  to 
the  company.  He  was  greatly  agitated. 

Without  further  remark  Miss  Mayberry  closed  her 
book,  and,  with  dignity,  walked  back  to  Lanigan 
Beam. 


XIX 


THE  AROUSED  ROSE 

HE  soul  of  Miss  Calthea  Rose  was 
now  filled  with  one  burning  purpose, 
and  that  was  to  banish  from  the 
Squirrel  Inn  that  obtrusive  and 
utterly  obnoxious  collegiate  nurse 
maid  who  had  so  shamelessly  ad 
mitted  a  desire  for  surgical  research  in  connection 
with  the  care  of  an  infant.  It  was  of  no  use  for  Miss 
Calthea  to  think  at  this  moment  of  her  plans  in  re 
gard  to  Mr.  Tippengray,  nor  indeed  of  anything  but 
this  one  absorbing  object.  Until  she  had  rid  herself 
of  Ida  Mayberry  she  could  expect  to  do  nothing  that 
she  wished  to  do.  Leaving  Mr.  Tippengray  to  the 
quiet  enjoyment  of  his  agitations,  Miss  Calthea  and 
Mrs.  Fetter  immediately  set  off  to  find  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  She  must  instantly  know,"  said  the  former,  "  what 
sort  of  a  serpent  she  has  in  her  service.  If  I  were  in 
her  place  I  would  never  let  that  creature  touch  my 
baby  again." 

"  Touch  the  baby ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fetter,  "  I 
would  n't  let  her  touch  me.  When  a  person  with 
such  a  disposition  begins  on  infants  there  is  no 

149 


150  THE  SQUIREEL  INN. 

knowing  where  she  will  stop.  Of  course  I  don't  mean 
that  she  is  dangerous  to  human  life,  but  it  seems  to 
me  horrible  to  have  any  one  about  us  who  would  be 
looking  at  our  muscles,  and  thinking  about  our  bones, 
and  wondering  if  they  worked  together  properly, 
and  if  they  would  come  apart  easily.  Ugh !  It 's 
like  having  a  bat  in  the  room." 

Mrs.  Cristie  was  not  in  the  mood  to  give  proper  at 
tention  to  the  alarming  facts  which  were  laid  before 
her  by  the  two  women,  who  found  her  sitting  by  the 
window  in  her  room.  It  had  been  so  short  a  time 
since  she  had  come  from  the  garden,  and  the  blossom 
of  the  sweet  pea,  which  she  still  held  in  her  hand,  had 
been  so  recently  picked  from  its  vine,  that  it  was 
not  easy  for  her  to  fix  her  mind  upon  the  disqualifi 
cations  of  nurse-maids.  Even  the  tale  that  was  told 
her,  intensified  by  the  bitter  feeling  of  Miss  Rose,  and 
embellished  by  the  imagination  of  Mrs.  Fetter,  did 
not  have  the  effect  upon  her  that  was  expected  by 
the  narrators.  She  herself  had  been  a  student  of 
anatomy,  and  was  still  fond  of  it,  and  if  she  had  been 
able  properly  to  consider  the  subject  at  that  moment, 
she  might  not  have  considered  it  a  bad  thing  for  Ida 
Mayberry  to  have  the  experience  of  which  she  had 
boasted. 

But  the  young  widow  did  not  wish  at  that  moment 
to  think  of  her  nurse-maid  or  even  of  her  baby,  and 
certainly  not  to  give  her  attention  to  the  tales  of  her 
landlady  and  the  spinster  from  Lethbury. 

"  I  must  admit,"  she  said,  "  that  I  cannot  see  that 
what  you  tell  me  is  so  very,  very  dreadful,  but  I  will 
speak  to  Ida  about  it.  I  think  she  is  apt  to  talk  very 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  151 

forcibly,  and  perhaps  imprudently,  and  does  not 
always  make  herself  understood." 

This  was  said  with  an  air  of  abstraction  and  want 
of  interest  which  greatly  irritated  Miss  Calthea.  She 
had  not  even  been  thanked  for  what  she  had  done. 
Mrs.  Cristie  had  been  very  civil,  and  was  evidently 
trying  to  be  more  so,  but  this  was  not  enough  for 
Miss  Calthea. 

"  We  considered  it  our  duty,"  she  said,  with  a 
decided  rigidity  of  countenance,  "  to  tell  you  what 
we  know  of  that  girl,  and  now  we  leave  the  matter 
with  you";  which  was  a  falsehood,  if  Miss  Calthea 
was  capable  of  telling  one. 

Then  with  much  dignity  she  moved  towards  the 
door,  and  Mrs.  Fetter  prepared  to  follow  ;  but  before 
going  she  turned  with  moist  eyes  towards  Mrs.  Cris 
tie,  and  said : 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  you  ought  to  be  very  careful;  and 
no  matter  how  you  look  at  it,  she  is  not  fit  for  a 
nurse,  as  everybody  can  see.  Make  up  your  mind  to 
send  her  away,  and  I  '11  go  myself  and  get  you  a 
good  one." 

Glancing  out  of  the  door  to  see  that  the  Lethbury 
lady  was  out  of  hearing,  Mrs.  Cristie  said  : 

"  You  are  very  good,  Mrs.  Fetter,  and  I  know  you 
wish  me  well,  but  tell  me  one  thing;  was  n't  it  Miss 
Rose  who  proposed  that  you  should  come  to  me  with 
this  story  about  Ida  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  should  have  told  you  myself,"  said 
Mrs.  Fetter,  "though  I  might  have  taken  my  time 
about  it ;  but  Calthea  did  not  want  to  lose  a  minute, 
and  said  we  must  go  right  off  and  look  for  you.  She 


152   .  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

was  as  mad  as  hops  any  way,  for  we  were  talking  to 
Mr.  Tippengray  at  the  time,  and  Calthea  does  hate  to 
be  interrupted  when  she  is  talking  to  him.  But  don't 
you  worry  yourself  any  more  than  you  can  help,  and 
remember  my  promise.  I  '11  stick  to  it,  you  may 
count  on  that." 

When  Mrs.  Cristie  had  been  left  to  herself  she  gave 
enough  time  to  the  consideration  of  what  had  been 
told  her  to  come  to  the  following  conclusion :  "  She 
shall  not  have  him ;  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  that. 
Interrupted  by  Ida !  Of  course  that  is  at  the  bottom 
of  it."  And  having  settled  this  matter,  she  relapsed 
into  her  former  mood,  and  fell  to  thinking  what  she 
should  do  about  the  sweet-pea  blossom. 

She  thought  until  the  supper-bell  rang,  and  then 
she  rose  and  with  a  pretty  smile  and  flush  upon  her 
face,  which  showed  that  her  thoughts  had  not  in  the 
least  worried  her,  she  put  the  sweet-pea  blossom  into 
a  little  jar  which  she  had  brought  from  Florence,  and 
which  was  just  big  enough  for  one  small  flower. 

At  supper  Walter  Lodloe  was  very  quiet  and  very 
polite,  and  Mrs.  Cristie,  who  was  opposite  to  him, 
though  not  at  all  quiet,  was  also  very  polite,  but 
bestowed  her  attention  almost  entirely  upon  Mr. 
Tippengray,  who  sat  beside  her.  The  Greek  scholar 
liked  this,  and  his  conversation  sparkled. 

Miss  Calthea  Rose,  who  had  accepted  Mrs.  Fetter's 
invitation  to  spend  the  night, — for  if  ever  she  was 
going  to  do  anything  at  the  Squirrel  Inn,  this  was 
the  time  to  do  it,—  did  not  like  Mrs.  Cristie's  polite 
ness,  and  her  conversation  did  not  sparkle.  In  fact 
she  was  quieter  than  Mr.  Lodloe,  and  paid  little  heed 


MKS.    CRISTIE  CONSIDERS. 


154  THE   SQUIREEL  INN. 

« 

to  the  chatter  of  her  neighbor,  Lanigan  Beam.  This 
young  man  was  dissatisfied.  There  was  a  place  at 
the  table  that  was  sometimes  filled  and  sometimes 
not  filled.  At  present  it  was  empty. 

"I  cannot  see,"  said  he,  speaking  to  the  company 
in  general,  "  why  babies  are  not  brought  to  the  table. 
I  think  they  ought  to  be  taught  from  the  very  be 
ginning  how  to  behave  themselves  at  meals." 

Mr.  Fetter  fixed  his  eyes  upon  him,  and,  speaking 
through  the  young  man,  also  addressed  the  company. 

"I  'in  not  altogether  in  favor  of  having  small 
children  at  the  table,"  said  he.  "Their  food  is  dif 
ferent  from  ours,  and  their  ways  are  often  unpleasant ; 
but  I  do  think—" 

"  No,  you  don't,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Petter  from  the 
other  end  of  the  table — "you  don't  think  anything 
of  the  kind.  That  has  all  been  fixed  and  settled,  and 
there 's  no  use  in  bringing  it  up  again." 

Mr.  Petter  looked  at  his  wife  with  a  little  flash  in 
his  eye,  but  he  spoke  quietly. 

"  There  are  some  things,"  he  said,  "  that  can  be  un 
fixed  and  unsettled." 

Mrs.  Cristie  hastened  to  stop  this  discussion. 

"  As  I  own  the  only  baby  in  the  house,"  she  said, 
with  a  smile,  "  I  may  as  well  say  that  it  is  not  coming 
to  the  table  either  by  itself  or  in  any  other  way." 

A  thought  now  tickled  Mr.  Tippengray.  Without 
any  adequate  reason  whatever,  there  came  before  him 
the  vision  of  an  opossum  which  he  once  had  seen  served 
at  a  Virginia  dinner-table,  plump  and  white,  upon  a 
china  dish.  And  he  felt  almost  irresistibly  impelled 
to  lean  forward  and  ask  Mr.  Lodloe  if  he  had  ever 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  155 

read  any  of  the  works  of  Mr.  Jonathan  Carver,  that 
noted  American  traveler  of  the  last  century ;  but  he 
knew  it  would  n't  do,  and  he  restrained  himself.  If 
he  had  thought  Lodloe  would  understand  him  he 
would  have  made  his  observation  in  Greek,  but  even 
that  would  have  been  impolite  to  the  rest  of  the  com 
pany.  So  he  kept  his  joke  to  himself,  and,  for  fear 
that  any  one  should  perceive  his  amusement,  he  asked 
Mrs.  Fetter  if  she  had  ever  noticed  how  much  finer 
was  the  fur  of  a  cat  which  slept  out  of  doors  than 
that  of  one  which  had  been  in  the  house.  She  had 
noticed  it,  but  thought  that  the  cat  would  prefer  a 
snug  rug  by  the  fire  to  fine  fur. 

Calthea  Eose  said  little  and  thought  much.  It  was 
necessary  that  she  should  take  in  every  possible  point 
in  the  situation,  and  she  was  doing  it.  She  did  not 
like  Mrs.  Cristie's  attention  to  Mr.  Tippengray,  be 
cause  it  gave  him  pleasure,  and  she  did  not  wish  that 
other  women  should  give  him  pleasure ;  but  she  was 
not  jealous,  for  that  would  have  been  absurd  in  this 
case. 

But  the  apparent  state  of  feeling  at  the  table  had 
given  her  an  idea.  She  was  thinking  very  bitterly 
of  Mrs.  Cristie,  and  would  gladly  do  anything  which 
would  cause  that  lady  discomfort.  There  seemed  to 
be  something  wrong  between  her  and  Mr.  Lodloe, 
otherwise  the  two  lovers  would  be  talking  to  each 
other,  as  was  their  custom.  Perhaps  she  might  find 
an  opportunity  to  do  something  here.  If,  for  instance, 
she  could  get  the  piqued  gentleman  to  flirt  a  little 
with  her, — and  she  had  no  doubt  of  her  abilities  in 
this  line,  —  it  might  cause  Mrs.  Cristie  uneasiness. 


156  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

And  here  her  scheme  widened  and  opened  before  her. 
If  in  any  way  she  could  make  life  at  the  Squirrel  Inn 
distasteful  to  Mrs.  Cristie,  that  lady  might  go  away. 
And  in  this  case  the  whole  problem  that  engrossed 
her  would  be  solved,  for  of  course  the  maid  would  go 
with  the  mistress. 

Calthea's  eyes  brightened,  and  with  a  smile  she 
half  listened  to  something  Lanigan  Beam  was  saying 
to  her. 

"  Yes,"  she  thought ;  "  that  would  settle  the  whole 
business.  The  widow  is  the  person  I  ought  to  drive 
away ;  then  they  would  all  go,  and  leave  him  to  me, 
as  I  had  him  before." 

And  now  she  listened  a  little,  and  talked  a  little, 
but  still  kept  on  thinking.  It  was  really  a  very  good 
thing  that  her  feeling  towards  Mrs.  Cristie  had  so 
suddenly  changed,  otherwise  she  might  never  have 
thought  of  this  admirable  scheme. 


XX 


AN  INGENUOUS  MAID 


RS.  CllISTIE  was  unusually  prompt 
that  evening  in  going  to  the  relief 
of  Ida  Mayberry,  but  before  she 
allowed  that  young  woman  to  go 
down  to  her  supper  she  put  a  ques 
tion  to  her. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Ida/'  she  said,  "  by  talking 
about  dissecting  babies?  Whatever  you  may  have 
done  in  that  line,  I  do  not  think  it  is  very  nice  to 
bring  it  forward  when  you  have  charge  of  a  child." 

"Of  course  it  was  n't  nice,"  replied  Ida,  "and  I 
should  never  have  thought  of  speaking  of  it  if  it  had 
not  been  for  that  thing  from  Lethbury.  She  makes 
me  so  angry  that  I  don't  know  what  I  say.  You 
ought  to  hear  Lanigan  Beam  talk  about  her.  He 
has  confided  to  me,  although  I  am  not  sure  that  he 
should  have  done  it." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Mrs.  Gristle,  very  promptly ; 
"  he  should  not  have  confided  anything  to  you." 

"  Well,"  continued  Ida,  "  he  told  me,  but  said  he 
would  not  breathe  it  to  any  one  else,  that  the  great 
object  of  his  life  at  present  was  to  rid  this  neighbor 
hood  of  Calthea  Rose.  He  says  she  has  been  a  plague 

157 


158  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

to  this  community  ever  since  he  has  known  her.  She 
is  always  ready  to  make  mischief,  and  nobody  can  tell 
when  or  how  she  is  going  to  do  it.  As  for  himself, 
he  vows  she  has  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  live 
here;  and  as  he  wishes  to  live  here,  he  wants  her 
to  go." 

"  And  how  does  he  propose  to  make  her  go  1 "  asked 
Mrs.  Cristie. 

"He  wants  her  to  marry  Mr.  Tippengray,  which 
she  is  very  willing  to  do,  and  then  he  is  quite  sure 
that  they  will  go  away  and  travel,  and  stay  abroad 
for  a  long  time.  He  knows  that  this  will  be  the  very 
thing  that  she  would  want  to  do." 

"And  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  "  that  Mr.  Beam 
told  you  all  this  in  order  that  you  might  be  induced 
to  help  on  the  match  between  Mr.  Tippengray  and 
Miss  Rose." 

"That  was  exactly  his  object,"  said  Ida;  "he  said 
that  everybody  ought  to  help  in  this  good  work." 

"And  then,  I  suppose,  he  would  like  to  marry 
you,"  remarked  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"He  has  n't  said  so  yet,"  replied  Miss  Mayberry, 
"but  I  think  he  would  like  to  do  it." 

Mrs.  Cristie  brought  down  her  little  fist  upon  the 
table,  regardless  of  her  slumbering  child. 

"  That  man  is  utterly  without  a  conscience,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  If  he  had  n't  kept  on  engaging  himself 
over  and  over  again  to  Calthea  Rose,  she  might  have 
married  somebody  else,  and  gone  away  long  ago.  He 
has  no  one  but  himself  to  blame  that  she  is  still  here 
to  worry  him  and  other  people.  And  as  to  his  wish 
ing  to  sacrifice  Mr.  Tippengray  to  his  ease  and  com- 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  159 

fort,  I  think  it  is  the  most  shameful  thing  I  ever 
heard  of.  I  hope,  Ida,  that  you  did  not  encourage 
him  in  this  iniquitous  scheme." 

Ida  laughed,  but  quietly — remembering  the  baby. 

"  Not  much,"  she  said ;  "  in  fact,  I  have  determined, 
if  I  can,  to  rescue  Mr.  Tippengray  from  that  clutching 
old  thing." 

"How?"  asked  Mrs.  Cristie,  quickly. 

"  By  marrying  him  myself,"  said  the  nurse-maid. 

"  Ida  Mayberry  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other ;  "  I  have  been  considering 
the  matter  a  good  deal,  and  I  think  it  can  be  done. 
He  is  much  older  than  I  am,  but  that  is  n't  of  great 
importance  when  people  suit  in  other  ways.  Of 
course  I  would  not  wish  to  marry  a  very  old  man, 
even  if  he  were  suitable,  for  I  should  have  to  look 
forward  to  a  married  life  so  short  that  it  would  not 
pay ;  but  Mr.  Tippengray  was  not  born  so  dreadfully 
far  back,  and  he  is  one  of  those  men  who  keep  young 
for  a  long  time.  I  think  he  likes  me,  and  I  am  sure 
I  can  easily  make  him  like  me  more,  if  I  choose. 
There  is  nobody  here  that  I  need  be  afraid  of,  except 
ing  you,  perhaps." 

Mrs.  Cristie  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"  Me ! "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ida;  "  and  this  is  the  way  of  it.  For 
a  time  I  rather  liked  Lanigan  Beam,  for  he  's  young 
and  good-looking,  and  particularly  because  he  seems 
very  much  in  love  with  me ;  but  although  he  pretends 
to  be  anxious  to  study,  I  know  he  is  not  very  deep, 
and  will  probably  soon  tire  of  that.  So  when  my 
sympathy  for  Mr.  Tippengray  was  fairly  aroused, — 


160 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 


and  it  has  been  growing  for  some  time, —  it  was  easy 
enough  to  drop'  Lanigan ;  but  before  I  allowed  my 
self  to  become  too  much  interested  in  Mr.  Tippengray 
I  had  to  consider  all  sides  of  the  case.  You  seem  to 
like  Mr.  Tippeugray  very  much,  and  of  course  if  you 
really  made  up  your  mind  to  prefer  him  to  anybody 


A  MATRIMONIAL  CONVERSATION. 

else,  one  great  object  would  be  gained,  just  the  same 
as  if  I  married  him,  and  he  would  be  saved  from  the 
hole  those  two  are  digging  for  him." 

"  And  in  that  case,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  repressing  a 
strong  disposition  to  laugh,  "  what  would  you  do  ? 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  161 

Perhaps  you  would  be  content  to  take  anything  that 
might  be  left." 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  Mr.  Lodloe,"  said  Ida.  "  Well, 
to  speak  plainly,  I  have  never  thought  that  I  had  a 
right  to  take  him  into  consideration,  but  if  the  field 
were  entirely  open,  I  would  not  hesitate  a  moment  in 
preferring  him  to  either  of  the  others." 

Now  Mrs.  Cristie  laughed  outright. 

"  I  could  never  have  imagined,"  she  said,  "  that  a 
young  girl  such  as  you  are  could  have  such  practical 
and  business-like  views  about  matrimony." 

"  Well,"  said  the  nurse-maid,  "I  don't  see  anything 
out  of  the  way  in  my  views.  I  want  to  bring  an  in 
telligent  judgment  to  bear  upon  everything  I  do,  and 
if  the  higher  education  is  of  any  good  at  all,  it  ought 
to  help  us  to  regulate  our  affections." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  on  the  subject,"  said  Mrs. 
Cristie,  "except  that  they  did  not  pretend  to  teach 
us  that  at  Vassar.  I  don't  see  how  you  can  bring 
yourself  to  such  calculations.  But  one  part  of 
your  scheme  I  approve  of  highly :  positively  you 
ought  to  drop  Lanigan  Beam.  As  to  marrying 
Mr.  Tippeugray,  that  is  your  affair,  and  his  affair. 
And  you  may  be  sure  I  shall  not  interfere  in  any 
way." 

Ida  looked  at  her  and  smiled. 

"I  was  n't  very  much  afraid  of  that,"  she  said, 
"  though  of  course  I  thought  I  ought  to  steer  clear  of 
even  a  possible  interference ;  but  now  I  can  go  ahead 
with  a  clear  conscience." 

Mrs.  Cristie  felt  drawn  towards  this  ingenuous 
maid. 


162  THE  SQUIBKEL  INN. 

"  Ida,"  she  said,  taking  her  by  the  hand,  "  as  you 
have  been  so  confiding  towards  me,  I  will  say  to  you 
that  since  you  have  concluded  to  drop  Mr.  Beam  your 
choice  is  decidedly  restricted." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  other,  warmly; 
"he  is  a  good  man,  and  I  think  he  has  brains  that 
you  can  count  on.  Is  it  all  settled?" 

"  Oh,  no,  no  ! "  said  Mrs.  Cristie ;  "  and  mind,  Ida, 
don't  you  say  a  word  of  this  to  a  living  soul." 

"  Oh,  you  need  n't  be  afraid  of  that,"  said  Miss 
Mayberry  ;  "  I  never  betray  confidences." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Mrs  Cristie  to  herself,  as  she 
stood  alone  by  her  baby's  bedside,  "that  I  went  a 
little  too  far.  It  is  n't  settled  yet,  and  it  would  have 
been  better  not  to  say  anything  about  it.  However  " 
—  and  then  her  thoughts  went  wandering.  She  was 
going  down-stairs  and  out  of  doors  as  soon  as  she  had 
satisfied  herself  that  Douglas  could  be  prudently  left 
to  his  slumbers. 


XXI 


TWISTED   TRYSTS 


3RS.  CRISTIE  found  the  lower  floor 
of  the  Squirrel  Inn  quite  deserted. 
She  stopped  before  a  window  in 
a  Norman  tower  and  looked  out. 
Twilight  was  fading,  but  there  was 
a  young  moon  in  the  sky.  By  step 
ping  a  little  to  one  side  she  could  see  the  moon,  with 
the  evening  star  twinkling  not  far  away  from  it.  She 
did  not  go  out,  however,  but  slowly  wandered  into  a 
long  room  under  the  roof  of  a  Swiss  chalet.  Here  she 
went  out  on  a  queer  little  balcony  and  sat  down ;  but  her 
view  was  cut  off  by  an  out- jutting  upper  story  of  the 
old  English  type,  with  rows  of  small-paned  windows, 
and  she  soon  came  in  from  the  balcony.  There  was 
a  light  burning  in  the  taproom,  and  as  she  passed  its 
open  door  she  stopped  for  a  moment  and  gazed  re 
flectively  at  the  row  of  dilapidated  stuffed  squirrels, 
each  of  which  had  once  stood  guard  upon  the  guide- 
post  to  the  inn.  But  she  took  no  note  of  the  squir 
rels,  nor  of  anything  else  in  the  quiet  room,  but  as 
she  stood,  and  instinctively  put  her  finger  to  her 
forehead,  a  resolution  came. 

163 


164  THE  SQUIEEEL  INN. 

"  I  will  be  sensible,  like  Ida,"  she  thought.  "  I  will 
go  out  and  let  things  happen  as  they  may." 

She  went  out  into  the  young  moonlight  and,  glanc 
ing  across  the  lawn,  saw,  near  the  edge  of  the  bluff 
that  commanded  the  western  view,  two  persons  sitting 
upon  a  bench.  Their  backs  were  towards  her,  but 
one  of  them  she  knew  to  be  Calthea  Rose. 

"I  hope  that  is  not  poor  Mr.  Tippengray,"  said 
Mrs.  Cristie  to  herself.  "If  she  has  secured  him 
already,  and  taken  him  out  there,  I  am  afraid  that 
even  Ida  will  not  be  able  to  get  him  away  from  her. 
Ida  must  still  be  at  her  supper.  I  should  not  have 
detained  her  so  long." 

But  Ida  was  not  at  her  supper.  As  she  turned 
towards  the  end  of  the  lawn  Mrs.  Cristie  saw  her 
nurse-maid  slowly  strolling  over  the  grass,  a  man  on 
each  side  of  her.  They  were  plainly  to  be  seen,  and 
one  man  was  Mr.  Tippengray  and  the  other  Lanigan 
Beam.  The  three  were  engaged  in  earnest  conversa 
tion.  Mrs.  Cristie  smiled. 

"I  need  not  have  feared  for  Ida,"  she  thought; 
"  she  must  have  made  a  bold  stroke  to  leave  her  rival 
in  the  lurch  in  that  way,  but  I  suppose  in  order  to 
get  one  man  she  has  to  take  both.  It  is  a  little  hard 
on  Miss  Calthea " ;  and  with  an  amused  glance 
towards  the  couple  on  the  bluff  she  moved  towards 
the  gardens.  Her  mind  was  in  a  half-timorous  and 
undetermined  state,  in  which  she  would  have  been 
glad  to  wander  about  by  herself  and  to  meet  nobody, 
or,  if  it  so  should  happen,  glad  to  meet  somebody; 
and  wistfully,  but  yet  timidly,  she  wondered  which 
it  would  be.  All  at  once  she  heard  a  step  behind 


CALTHEA  HOLDS  HIM  WITH   HEE  LISTENING  EAR. 


166  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

her.  In  spite  of  herself  she  started  and  flushed,  and, 
turning,  saw  Mr.  Fetter.  The  sight  of  this  worthy 
gentleman  was  a  shock  to  her.  She  had  been  sure 
he  was  sitting  with  Calthea  Rose  on  the  bluff.  If  it 
was  not  he,  who  was  it  ? 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Cristie,"  said  the  land 
lord  of  the  inn,  "  for  I  want  to  speak  with  you.  My 
mind  is  disturbed,  and  it  is  on  account  of  your  assis 
tant,  Miss  Mayberry.  She  has  been  talked  about  in 
a  way  that  I  do  not  at  all  like.  I  may  even  say  that 
my  wife  has  been  urging  me  to  use  my  influence  with 
you  to  get  her  dismissed.  I  assured  Mrs.  Fetter,  how 
ever,  that  I  should  use  that  influence,  if  it  exists,  in 
exactly  the  opposite  direction.  Shall  we  walk  on 
together,  Mrs.  Cristie,  while  I  speak  further  on  the 
subject  ?  I  have  a  high  opinion  of  Miss  Mayberry. 
I  like  her  because  she  is  what  I  term  blooded.  Noth 
ing  pleases  me  so  much  as  blooded  service,  and,  I  may 
add,  blooded  associations  and  possessions.  So  far  as 
I  am  able  to  have  it  so,  my  horses,  my  cattle,  and  all 
my  live  stock  are  blooded.  I  consider  my  house,  this 
inn,  to  be  a  blooded  house.  It  can  trace  its  various 
lines  of  architectural  ancestry  to  honorable  origins. 
The  company  at  my  house,  with  the  exception  of 
Lanigan  Beam, —  who,  however,  is  not  a  full  guest, 
but  rather  a  limited  inmate,  ascending  by  a  ladder  to 
his  dormitory, —  are,  if  you  will  excuse  me  for  saying 
so,  blooded.  And  that  one  of  these  guests  should 
avail  herself  of  blooded  service  is  to  me  a  great  grati 
fication,  of  which  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  deprived.  To 
see  a  vulgar  domestic  in  Miss  Mayberry's  place  would 
wound  and  pain  me,  and  I  may  say,  Mrs.  Cristie,  that 


THE   SQUIRREL   INN.  167 

I  have  been  able  to  see  no  reason  whatever  for  such 
substitution." 

Mrs.  Cristie  had  listened  without  a  word,  but  as  she 
listened  she  had  been  asking  herself  who  that  could 
be  with  Calthea  Rose.  If  it  was  not  Walter  Lodloe, 
who  was  it  ?  And  if  it  was  he,  why  was  he  there  ? 
And  if  he  was  there,  why  did  he  stay  there?  Of 
course  she  was  neither  jealous  nor  worried  nor 
troubled  by  such  a  thing,  but  the  situation  was  cer 
tainly  odd.  She  had  come  out  expecting  something, 
she  did  not  know  exactly  what ;  it  might  not  have 
been  a  walk  among  the  sweet-pea  blossoms,  but  she 
was  very  certain  it  was  not  a  conversation  with  Mr. 
Fetter, ,  while  Walter  Lodloe  sat  over  there  in  the 
moonlight  with  Calthea  Eose. 

"  You  need  not  have  given  yourself  any  anxiety," 
she  said  to  her  companion,  u  for  I  have  not  the  slightest 
idea  of  discharging  Ida.  She  suits  me  admirably,  and 
what  they  say  about  her  is  all  nonsense ;  of  course  I 
do  not  mean  any  disrespect  to  Mrs.  Fetter." 

Mr.  Fetter  deprecatingly  waved  his  hand. 

"  I  understand  perfectly  your  reference  to  my  wife," 
he  said  "  Her  mind,  I  think,  has  been  acted  upon 
by  others.  Allow  me  to  say,  madam,  that  your  words 
have  encouraged  and  delighted  me.  I  feel  we  are 
moving  in  the  right  direction.  I  breathe  better." 

"  How  is  it  possible,"  thought  Mrs.  Cristie,  during 
the  delivery  of  this  speech,  "  that  he  can  sit  there,  and 
sit,  and  sit,  and  sit,  when  he  knows  at  this  hour  I  am 
always  somewhere  about  the  house  or  grounds,  and 
never  in  my  room  ?  Well,  if  he  likes  to  sit  there,  let 
him  sit " ;  and  with  this  she  looked  up  with  some 


168  THE  SQUIREEL  INN. 

vivacity  into  the  face  of  her  landlord  and  asked  him 
if  even  his  pigeons  and  his  chickens  were  blooded, 
and  if  the  pigs  were  also  of  good  descent.  As  she 
spoke  she  slightly  accelerated  her  pace. 

Mr.  Fetter  was  very  willing  to  walk  faster,  and  to 
talk  about  all  that  appertained  to  his  beloved  Squir 
rel  Inn,  and  so  they  walked  and  talked  until  they 
reached  the  garden  and  disappeared  from  view  be 
hind  the  tall  shrubbery  that  bordered  the  central 
path. 

Mrs.  Fetter  sat  on  a  little  Dutch  porch,  looking  out 
on  the  lawn,  and  her  mind  was  troubled.  She  wished 
to  talk  to  Mr.  Fetter,  and  here  he  was  strolling  about 
in  the  moonlight  with  that  young  widow.  Of  course 
there  was  nothing  in  it,  and  it  was  perfectly  proper 
for  him  to  be  polite  to  his  guests,  but  there  were  lines 
in  politeness  as  well  as  in  other  things,  and  they  ought 
to  be  drawn  before  people  went  off  walking  by  them 
selves  in  the  garden  at  an  hour  when  most  farmers 
were  thinking  about  going  to  bed.  The  good  lady 
sat  very  uneasily  on  her  little  bench.  The  night  air 
felt  damp  to  her  and  disagreeable ;  she  was  sure  there 
were  spiders  and  other  things  running  about  the 
porch  floor,  and  there  were  no  rounds  to  the  bench  on 
which  she  could  put  her  feet.  But  she  could  not  bear 
to  go  in,  for  she  had  not  the  least  idea  in  the  world 
where  they  had  gone  to.  Perhaps  they  might  walk  all 
the  way  to  Lethbury,  for  all  she  knew.  At  this  mo 
ment  a  man  came  up  to  the  porch.  It  was  Lanigan 
Beam,  and  his  soul  was  troubled.  The  skilful  Miss 
Mayberry  had  so  managed  the  conversation  in  which 
she  and  the  two  gentlemen  were  engaged,  that  its 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  169 

subject  matter  became  deeper  and  deeper  in  its  char 
acter,  until  poor  Lanigan  found  that  it  was  getting 
very  much  too  deep  for  him.  As  long  as  he  could 
manage  to  keep  his  head  above  water  he  stood 
bravely,  but  when  he  was  obliged  to  raise  himself 
on  the  tips  of  his  toes,  and  even  then  found  the  dis 
course  rising  above  his  chin,  obliging  him  to  shut  his 
'.  mouth  and  to  blink  his  eyes,  he  thought  it  wise  to 
strike  out  for  shore  before  he  made  a  pitiful  show  of 
his  lack  of  mental  stature. 

And  in  a  very  bad  humor  Lanigan  walked  rapidly 
to  the  house,  where  he  was  much  surprised  to  see 
Mrs.  Fetter  on  the  little  Dutch  porch. 

"Why,  madam,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  thought  you 
never  sat  out  after  nightfall." 

"  As  a  rule,  I  don't,"  the  good  lady  answered,  "  and 
I  ought  n't  to  now ;  but  the  fact  is  —  "  She  hesitated, 
but  it  was  not  necessary  to  finish  the  sentence.  Mr. 
Fetter  and  Mrs.  Cristie  emerged  from  the  garden  and 
stood  together  just  outside  its  gate.  He  was  explain 
ing  to  her  the  origin  of  some  of  the  peculiar  features 
of  the  Squirrel  Inn. 

When  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Beam  fell  upon  these  two, 
who  stood  plainly  visible  in  the  moonlight,  while  he 
and  Mrs.  Fetter  were  in  shadow,  his  trouble  was 
dissipated  by  a  mischievous  hilarity. 

"  Well,  well,  well !  "  said  he,  "  she  is  a  woman." 

"  Of  course  she  is,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter ;  "  and  what  of 
that,  I  'd  like  to  know  ? " 

"Now  that  I  think  of  it,"  said  Lanigan,  with  a 
finger  on  the  side  of  his  nose,  "  I  remember  that  she 
and  her  young  man  did  n't  have  much  to  say  to  each 


170  THE  SQUIEREL   INN. 

other  at  supper.  Quarreled,  perhaps.  And  she  is 
comforting  herself  with  a  little  flirt  with  Mr.  Fetter." 

"  Lanigan  Beam,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your 
self,"  cried  the  good  lady;  "you  know  Mr.  Fetter 
never  flirts." 

"  Well,  perhaps  he  does  n't,"  said  Lanigan ;  "  but  if 
I  were  you,  Mrs.  Fetter,  I  would  take  him  out  a  shawl 
or  something  to  put  over  his  shoulders.  He  ought  n't 
to  be  standing  out  there  in  the  night  wind." 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  she  answered 
shortly,  "  and  I  ought  n't  to  be  out  here  in  the  night 
air  either." 

Lanigan  gazed  at  Mrs.  Cristie  and  her  companion. 
If  that  charming  young  widow  wanted  some  one  to 
walk  about  with  her  in  the  moonlight,  she  could 
surely  do  better  than  that.  Perhaps  a  diversion  might 
be  effected  and  partners  changed. 

"  Mrs.  Fetter,"  said  he,  "  I  would  n't  go  in,  if  I  were 
you.  If  you  move  about  you  will  be  all  right.  Sup 
pose  we  stroll  over  that  way." 

"  I  am  ready  to  stroll,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter,  in  a  tone 
that  showed  she  had  been  a  good  deal  stirred  by  her 
companion's  remarks,  "  but  I  am  not  going  to  stroll 
over  that  way.  The  place  is  big  enough  for  people 
to  keep  to  themselves,  if  they  choose,  and  I  am 
one  that  chooses,  and  I  choose  to  walk  in  the  direc 
tion  of  my  duty,  or,  more  properly,  the  duty  of  some 
body  else,  and  see  that  the  hen-houses  are  shut"; 
and,  taking  Lanigan's  arm,  she  marched  him  down 
to  the  barn,  and  then  across  a  small  orchard  to  the 
most  distant  poultry-house  within  the  limits  of  the 
estate. 


THE  SQUIREEL  INN.  171 

When  Mr.  Stephen  Fetter,  allowing  his  eyes  to 
drop  from  the  pointed  roof  of  his  high  tower,  saw  his 
wife  and  Lanigan  Beam  walking  away  among  the 
trees  in  the  orchard,  he  suddenly  became  aware  that 
the  night  air  was  chilly,  and  suggested  to  his  com 
panion  that  it  might  be  well  to  return  to  the  house. 

"  Oh,  not  yet,  Mr.  Fetter,"  said  she ;  "  I  want  you 
to  tell  me  how  you  came  to  have  that  little  turret  over 
the  thatched  roof." 

She  had  determined  that  she  would  not  go  indoors 
while  Calthea  Rose  and  Mr.  Lodloe  sat  together  on 
that  bench. 

Early  in  the  evening  Miss  Calthea  had  seen  Mr. 
Lodloe  walking  by  himself  upon  the  bluff,  and  she  so 
arranged  a  little  promenade  of  her  own  that  in  pass 
ing  around  some  shrubbery  she  met  him  near  the 
bench.  Miss  Calthea  was  an  admirable  manager  in 
dialogue,  and  if  she  had  an  object  in  view  it  did  not 
take  her  long  to  find  out  what  her  collocutor  liked  to 
talk  about.  She  had  unusual  success  in  discovering 
something  which  very  much  interested  Mr.  Lodloe, 
and  they  were  soon  seated  on  a  bench  discussing  the 
manners  and  ways  of  life  in  Lethbury. 

To  a  man  who  recently  had  been  seized  with  a  de 
sire  to  marry  and  to  live  in  Lethbury,  and  who  had 
already  taken  some  steps  in  regard  to  the  marriage, 
this  subject  was  one  of  the  most  lively  interest,  and 
Lodloe  was  delighted  to  find  what  a  sensible,  prac 
tical,  and  well-informed  woman  was  Miss  Rose.  She 
was  able  to  give  him  all  sorts  of  points  about  buying 
a  building  or  renting  houses  in  Lethbury,  and  she 
entered  with  the  greatest  zeal  into  the  details  of  liv- 


172  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

ing,  service,  the  cost  of  keeping  a  horse,  a  cow,  and 
poultry,  and  without  making  any  inconvenient  in 
quiries  into  the  reasons  for  Mr.  Lodloe's  desire  for 
information  on  these  subjects.  She  told  him  every 
thing  he  wanted  to  know  about  housekeeping  in  her 
native  village,  because  she  had  made  herself  aware 
that  his  mind  was  set  on  that  sort  of  thing.  In  truth 
she  did  not  care  whether  he  settled  in  Lethbury  or 
some  other  place,  or  whether  he  ever  married  and 
settled  at  all.  All  she  wished  was  to  talk  to  him  in 
such  a  way  that  she  might  keep  him  with  her  as  long 
as  possible.  She  wished  this  because  she  liked  to 
keep  a  fine-looking  young  man  all  to  herself,  and  also 
because  she  thought  that  the  longer  she  did  so  the 
more  uneasiness  she  would  cause  Mrs.  Cristie. 

She  had  convinced  herself  that  it  would  not  do  for 
life  to  float  too  smoothly  at  the  Squirrel  Inn.  She 
would  stir  up  things  here  and  there,  but  prudently, 
so  that  no  matter  who  became  disgusted  and  went 
away,  it  would  not  be  Mr.  Tippengray.  She  was  not 
concerned  at  present  about  this  gentleman.  It  was 
ten  to  one  that  by  this  time  Lauigan  Beam  had  driven 
him  away  from  the  child's  nurse. 

Walter  Lodloe  was  now  beginning  to  feel  that  it 
was  quite  time  that  his  conversation  with  Miss  Rose, 
which  had  really  lasted  much  longer  than  he  sup 
posed,  should  be  brought  to  a  close.  His  manner 
indicating  this,  Miss  Calthea  immediately  entered 
into  a  most  attractive  description  of  a  house  pictur 
esquely  situated  on  the  outskirts  of  Lethbury,  which 
would  probably  soon  be  vacated  on  account  of  the 
owner's  desire  to  go  West. 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  173 

At  the  other  end  of  the  extensive  lawn  two  persons 
walked  backward  and  forward  near  the  edge  of  the 
trees  perfectly  satisfied  and  untroubled.  What  the 
rest  of  the  world  was  doing  was  of  no  concern  what 
ever  to  either  of  them. 

"I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Tippengray,"  said  the  nurse 
maid,  "  that  when  your  Greek  version  of  the  literature 
of  to-day,  especially  its  humorous  portion,  is  trans 
lated  into  the  American  language  of  the  future  it  will 
lose  much  of  its  point  and  character." 

"You  must  remember,  my  dear  Miss  Mayberry," 
said  the  gentleman,  "  that  we  do  not  know  what  our 
language  will  be  in  eight  hundred  or  a  thousand 
years  from  now.  The  English  of  to-day  may  be  ut 
terly  unintelligible  to  the  readers  of  that  era,  but  that 
portion  of  our  literature  which  I  put  into  imperish 
able  and  unchangeable  Greek  will  be  the  same  then  as 
now.  The  scholar  may  read  it  for  his  own  pleasure 
and  profit,  or  he  may  translate  it  for  the  pleasure  and 
profit  of  others.  At  all  events,  it  will  be  there,  like  a 
fly  in  amber,  good  for  all  time.  All  you  have  to  do 
is  to  melt  your  amber,  and  there  you  have  your  fly." 

"And  a  well-shriveled-up  fly  it  would  be,  I  am 
afraid,"  said  Ida. 

Mr.  Tippengray  laughed. 

"  Be  not  too  sure  of  that,"  he  said.  "  I  will  trans 
late  some  of  my  Greek  version  of  'Pickwick'  back 
into  English,  and  let  you  see  for  yourself  how  my 
amber  preserves  the  fly." 

"  Let  me  do  it,"  said  Ida.  "  It  is  a  long  time  since 
I  read  '  Pickwick,'  and  therefore  my  translation  will 
be  a  better  test." 


174  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

"  Capital ! "  cried  Mr.  Tippengray.  "  I  will  copy  a 
few  lines  for  you  to-night." 

From  out  an  open  Elizabethan  window  under  a 
mansard  roof,  and  overlooking  a  small  Moorish 
veranda,  there  came  a  sound  of  woe.  The  infant 
Douglas  had  awakened  from  a  troubled  sleep,  and 
with  a  wild  and  piercing  cry  he  made  known  to  his 
fellow-beings  his  desire  for  society.  Instantly  there 
was  a  kaleidoscopic  change  among  the  personages  on 
the  grounds  of  the  Squirrel  Inn.  Miss  Mayberry 
darted  towards  the  house ;  the  Greek  scholar,  without 
knowing  what  he  was  doing,  ran  after  her  for  a  short 
distance,  and  then  stopped;  Mrs.  Fetter  screamed  from 
the  edge  of  the  orchard  to  know  what  was  the  matter ; 
and  Lanigan  ran  to  see.  Mr.  Fetter,  the  natural 
guardian  of  the  place,  pricked  up  his  ears  and  strode 
towards  the  inn,  his  soul  filled  with  a  sudden  fear  of 
fire.  Mrs.  Cristie  recognized  the  voice  of  her  child, 
but  saw  Ida  running,  and  so,  relieved  of  present 
anxiety,  remained  where  her  companion  had  left  her. 

Walter  Lodloe,  hearing  Mrs.  Fetter's  voice  and  the 
running,  sprang  from  his  seat;  and  seeing  that  it 
would  be  impossible  to  detain  him  now,  and  prefer 
ring  to  leave  rather  than  to  be  left,  Miss  Calthea 
hurried  away  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 


XXII 


THE   BLOSSOM  AND  THE   LITTLE  JAE 


ERCEIVING  Mrs.  Cristie  standing 
alone  near  the  entrance  to  the  gar 
den,  Walter  Lodloe  walked  rapidly 
towards  her.  As  he  approached 
she  moved  in  the  direction  of  the 
house. 

"  Will  you  not  stop  a  moment  ? "  he  said.  "  Do  not 
go  in  yet." 

"  I  must,"  she  answered ;  "  I  have  been  out  here  a 
long  while  —  too  long." 

"  Out  here  a  long  time ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  You  sur 
prise  me.  Please  stop  one  moment.  I  want  to  tell 
you  of  a  most  interesting  conversation  I  have  had 
with  Miss  Rose.  It  has  animated  me  wonderfully." 

Considering  what  had  occurred  that  afternoon,  this 
remark  could  not  fail  to  impress  Mrs.  Cristie,  and  she 
stopped  and  looked  at  him.  He  did  not  give  her  time 
to  ask  any  questions,  but  went  on : 

"  I  have  been  asking  her  about  life  in  Lethbury  — 
houses,  gardens,  everything  that  relates  to  a  home  in 
that  delightful  village.  And  what  she  has  told  me 
opens  a  paradise  before  me.  I  did  not  dream  that 

175 


176  THE  SQUIBEEL  INN. 

down  in  that  moon-lighted  valley  I  should  be  almost 
rich ;  that  I  could  offer  you  —  " 

"And  may  I  ask,"  she  interrupted,  "if  you  have 
been  talking  about  me  to  Miss  Rose  ?  " 

"Not  a  word  of  it,"  he  answered  warmly.  "I 
never  mentioned  your  name,  nor  referred  to  you  in 
any  way." 

She  could  not  help  ejaculating  a  little  sarcastically: 

"  How  circumspect ! " 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  coming  closer  to  her,  "  will 
you  not  give  me  an  answer  ?  I  love  you,  and  I  can 
not  wait.  And  oh  !  speak  quickly,  for  here  comes 
Mrs.  Fetter  straight  towards  us." 

"  I  do  not  like  Lethbury,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie. 

Lodloe  could  have  stamped  his  feet,  in  the  fire  of 
his  impatience. 

"  But  of  me,  of  myself,"  he  said.  "  And  oh !  speak 
quickly,  she  is  almost  here." 

"Please  cease,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie ;  "she  will  hear 
you." 

Mrs.  Fetter  came  up  panting. 

"  I  don't  want  to  interrupt  you,  Mrs.  Cristie,"  she 
said,  "but  really  and  truly  you  ought  to  go  to  your 
baby.  He  has  stopped  crying  in  the  most  startling  and 
suspicious  way.  Of  course  I  don't  know  what  she  has 
done  to  him,  and  whether  it 's  anything  surgical  or 
laudanum.  And  it  is  n't  for  me  to  be  there  to  smell 
the  little  creature's  breath ;  but  you  ought  to  go  this 
minute,  and  if  you  find  there  is  anything  needed 
in  the  way  of  mustard,  or  hot  water,  or  sending 
for  the  doctor,  just  call  to  me  from  the  top  of  the 
stairs." 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  177 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Fetter,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  "why 
did  n't  Calthea  Rose  come  and  tell  me  this  herself, 
instead  of  sending  you1?" 

"  She  said  that  she  thought  you  would  take  it  bet 
ter  from  me  than  from  her ;  and  after  we  had  made 
up  our  minds  about  it,  she  said  I  ought  not  to  wait  a 
second." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  "  it  was  very  good  in  you 
to  come  to  me,  but  I  do  not  feel  in  the  least  alarmed. 
It  was  Ida's  business  to  quiet  the  child,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  she  did  it  without  knives  or  poison.  But  now 
that  you  are  here,  Mrs.  Fetter,  I  wish  to  ask  your 
opinion  about  something  that  Mr.  Lodloe  has  been 
talking  of  to  me." 

The  young  man  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  He  has  been  telling  me,"  continued  Mrs.  Cristie, 
"  of  a  gentleman  he  knows,  a  person  of  education,  and 
accustomed  to  society,  who  had  conceived  the  idea  of 
living  in  Lethbury.  Now  what  do  you  think  of  that  ? " 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter,  "if  he 's  married,  and  if  his 
wife  's  got  the  asthma,  or  he 's  got  it  himself,  I  have 
heard  that  Lethbury  is  good  for  that  sort  of  com 
plaint.  Or  if  he  's  failed  in  business  and  has  to  live 
cheap ;  or  if  he  is  thinking  of  setting  up  a  store  where 
a  person  can  get  honest  wash-goods;  or  if  he  has 
sickly  children,  and  is  n't  particular  about  schools, 
I  suppose  he  might  as  well  come  to  Lethbury  as  not." 

"But  he  has  none  of  those  reasons  for  settling 
here,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"Well,  then,"  remarked  Mrs.  Fetter,  somewhat 
severely,  "  he  must  be  weak  in  his  mind.  And  if  he 's 
that,  I  don't  think  he  's  needed  in  Lethbury." 


178  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

As  she  finished  speaking  the  good  woman  turned 
and  beheld  her  husband  just  coming  out  of  the  house. 
Being  very  desirous  of  having  her  talk  with  him,  and 
not  very  well  pleased  at  the 'manner  in  which  her 
mission  had  been  received,  she  abruptly  betook  herself 
to  the  house. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Cristie,  turning  to  Lodloe, 
"  what  do  you  think  of  that  very  explicit  opinion  ?  " 

"  Does  it  agree  with  yours?"  he  asked. 

"  Wonderfully,"  she  replied.  "  I  could  not  have 
imagined  that  Mrs.  Fetter  and  I  were  so  much  of  a 
mind." 

"  Mrs.  Cristie,"  said  Lodloe,  "  I  drop  Lethbury,  and 
here  I  stand  with  nothing  but  myself  to  offer  you." 

The  moon  had  now  set,  the  evening  was  growing 
dark,  and  the  lady  began  to  feel  a  little  chilly  about 
the  shoulders. 

"Mr.  Lodloe,"  she  asked,  "what  did  you  do  with 
that  bunch  of  sweet  peas  you  picked  this  afternoon  ?" 

"  They  are  in  my  room,"  he  said  eagerly.  "  I  have 
put  them  in  water.  They  are  as  fresh  as  when  I 
gathered  them." 

"Well,"  she  said,  speaking  rather  slowly,  "if  to 
morrow,  or  next  day,  or  any  time  when  it  may  be 
convenient,  you  will  bring  them  to  me,  I  think  I  will 
take  them." 

In  about  half  an  hour  Mrs.  Cristie  went  into  the 
house,  feeling  that  she  had  stayed  out  entirely  too 
late.  In  her  room  she  found  Ida  reading  by  a 
shaded  lamp,  and  the  baby  sleeping  soundly.  The 
nurse-maid  looked  up  with  a  smile,  and  then  turned 
her  face  again  to  her  book.  Mrs.  Cristie  stepped 


THE  BABY  AND   THE   SWEET-PEA  BLOSSOM. 


180  THE   SQUIEREL  INN. 

quietly  to  the  mantelpiece,  on  which  she  had  set  the 
little  jar  from  Florence,  but  to  her  surprise  there  was 
nothing  in  it.  The  sweet-pea  blossom  was  gone.  Af 
ter  looking  here  and  there  upon  the  floor,  she  went 
over  to  Ida,  and  in  a  low  voice  asked  her  if  she  had 
seen  anything  of  a  little  flower  that  had  been  in  that 
jar. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  girl,  putting  down  her  book ; 
"I  gave  it  to  baby  to  amuse  him,  and  the  instant 
he  took  it  he  stopped  crying,  and  very  soon  went  to 
sleep.  There  it  is ;  I  declare,  he  is  holding  it  yet." 

Mrs.  Cristie  went  softly  to  the  bedside  of  the  child 
and,  bending  over  him,  gently  drew  the  sweet-pea 
blossom  from  his  chubby  little  fist. 


XXIII 


HAMMERSTEIN 


ISS  CALTHEA  ROSE  was  up  and 
about  very  early  the  next  morning. 
She  had  work  to  do  in  which  there 
must  be  no  delay  or  loss  of  oppor 
tunity.  It  was  plain  enough  that 
her  scheme  for  driving  away  Ida 
Mayberry  had  failed,  and,  having  carefully  noted  the 
extraordinary  length  of  time  which  Mrs.  Cristie  and 
Mr.  Lodloe  spent  together  under  the  stars  the  previous 
evening,  she  was  convinced  that  it  would  not  be  easy 
to  make  that  lady  dissatisfied  with  the  Squirrel  Inn. 
She  therefore  determined  to  turn  aside  from  her  plans 
of  exile,  to  let  the  child's  nurse  stay  where  she 
pleased,  to  give  no  further  thought  to  Lanigan 
Beam,  and  to  devote  all  her  energies  to  capturing 
Mr.  Tippengray.  She  believed  that  she  had  been 
upon  the  point  of  doing  this  before  the  arrival  of 
intruders  on  the  scene,  and  she  did  not  doubt  that 
she  could  reach  that  point  again. 

Miss  Calthea  was  very  restless  that  morning;  she 
was  much  more  anxious  to  begin  work  than  was  any 
body  else  on  the  place.  She  walked  about  the  ground, 

181 


182  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

went  into  the  garden,  passed  the  summer-house  on 
her  way  there  and  back  again,  and  even  wandered 
down  to  the  barnyard,  where  the  milking  had  just 
begun.  If  any  one  had  been  roaming  about  like  her 
self,  she  could  not  have  failed  to  observe  such  person. 
But  there  was  no  one  about  until  a  little  before 
breakfast-time,  when  Mr.  Fetter  showed  himself. 

This  gentleman  greeted  Calthea  coolly.  He  had 
had  a  very  animated  conversation  with  his  wife  on 
the  evening  before,  and  had  been  made  acquainted 
with  the  unwarrantable  enmity  exhibited  by  this 
village  shopkeeper  toward  Mrs.  Cristie's  blooded 
assistant.  He  was  beginning  to  dislike  Calthea,  and 
he  remembered  that  the  Rockmores  never  liked  her, 
and  he  wished  very  much  that  she  would  cease  to 
spend  so  much  of  her  time  at  his  house.  After  break 
fast  Calthea  was  more  fortunate.  She  saw  the  Greek 
scholar  walking  upon  the  lawn,  with  a  piece  of  writ 
ing-paper  in  his  hand.  In  less  than  five  minutes,  by 
the  merest  accident  in  the  world,  Mr.  Tippengray  was 
walking  across  the  lawn  with  Miss  Rose,  and  he  had 
put  his  piece  of  paper  into  his  pocket. 

She  wanted  to  ask  him  something.  She  would 
detain  him  only  a  few  minutes.  The  questions  she 
put  to  him  had  been  suggested  to  her  by  something 
she  had  read  that  morning — a  most  meager  and  un 
satisfactory  passage.  She  held  in  her  hand  the  vol 
ume  which,  although  she  did  not  tell  him  so,  had  taken 
her  a  half -hour  to  select  in  Mr.  Fetter's  book  room. 
Shortly  they  were  seated  together,  and  he  was  answer 
ing  her  questions  which,  as  she  knew,  related  to  the 
most  interesting  experiences  of  his  life.  As  he  spoke 


THE  SQUIREEL  INN.  183 

i 

his  eyes  glistened  and  her  soul  warmed.  He  did  not 
wish  that  this  should  be  so.  He  wanted  to  bring  this 
interview  to  an  end.  He  was  nervously  anxious  to 
go  back  on  the  lawn,  that  he  might  see  Miss  May- 
berry  when  she  came  out  of  doors ;  that  he  might 
show  her  the  lines  of  "  Pickwick  "  which  he  had  put 
into  Greek,  and  which  she  was  to  turn  back  into 
English. 

But  he  could  not  cut  short  the  interview.  Miss 
Calthea  was  not  an  Ancient  Mariner;  she  had  never 
even  seen  the  sea,  and  she  had  no  glittering  eye,  but 
she  held  him  with  a  listening  ear,  and  never  was 
wedding  guest,  or  any  other  man,  held  more  securely. 

Minutes,  quarter-hours,  half-hours  passed  and  still 
he  talked  and  she  listened.  She  guided  his  speech  as 
a  watchful  sailor  guides  his  ship,  and  whichever  way 
she  turned  it  the  wind  always  filled  his  sails.  For 
the  first  ten  minutes  he  had  been  ill  at  ease,  but  after 
that  he  had  begun  to  feel  that  he  had  never  so  much 
enjoyed  talking.  In  time  he  forgot  everything  but 
what  he  had  to  say,  and  it  was  rapture  to  be  able  to 
say  it,  and  to  feel  that  never  before  had  he  said  it  so 
well. 

His  back  was  towards  the  inn,  but  through  some 
trees  Miss  Calthea  could  see  that  Mr.  Fetter's  spring 
wagon,  drawn  by  the  two  grays,  Stolzenfels  and 
Falkenberg,  was  at  the  door,  and  soon  she  per 
ceived  that  Mr.  Lodloe  was  in  the  driver's  place,  and 
that  Mrs.  Cristie,  with  Ida  Mayberry  holding  the 
baby,  was  on  the  back  seat.  The  place  next  Lodloe 
was  vacant,  and  they  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  some 
one.  Then  Lanigan  Beam  came  up.  There  was  a 
13 


184  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

good  deal  of  conversation,  in  which  he  seemed  to  be 
giving  information,  and  presently  he  sprang  up  be 
side  the  driver  and  they  were  off.  The  party  were 
going  for  a  long  drive,  Miss  Calthea  thought,  because 
Mrs.  Fetter  had  come  out  and  had  put  a  covered 
basket  into  the  back  of  the  wagon. 

Mr.  Tippengray  was  so  absorbed  in  the  interest  of 
what  he  was  saying  that  he  did  not  hear  the  roll  of 
the  departing  wheels,  and  Miss  Calthea  allowed  him 
to  talk  on  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour  until  she 
thought  she  had  exhausted  the  branch  of  the  subject 
on  which  he  was  engaged,  and  was  sure  the  spring 
wagon  was  out  of  sight  and  hearing.  Then  she  de 
clared  that  she  had  not  believed  that  any  part  of  the 
world  could  be  as  interesting  as  that  region  which 
Mr.  Tippengray  had  been  describing  to  her,  and  that 
she  was  sorry  she  could  not  sit  there  all  the  morning 
and  listen  to  him,  but  duty  was  duty,  and  it  was 
necessary  for  her  to  return  to  Lethbury. 

This  announcement  did  not  seem  in  the  least  to 
decrease  the  good  spirits  of  the  Greek  scholar,  but  his 
chin  and  his  spirits  fell  when,  on  reaching  the  house, 
he  heard  from  Mrs.  Petter  that  his  fellow-guests  had 
gone  off  for  a  long  drive. 

"  They  expected  to  take  you,  Mr.  Tippengray,"  said 
his  hostess,  "but  Lanigan  Beam  said  he  had  seen 
you  and  Miss  Rose  walking  across  the  fields  to  Leth 
bury,  and  so  they  asked  him  to  go.  I  hope  they  '11  be 
back  to  dinner,  but  there  's  no  knowing,  and  so  I  put 
in  a  basket  of  sandwiches  and  things  to  keep  them 
from  starving  before  they  get  home." 

Miss  Calthea  was  quite  surprised. 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  185 

"We  were  sitting  over  yonder  the  whole  time," 
she  said,  "  very  much  occupied  with  talking,  it  is  true, 
but  near  enough  to  hear  if  we  had  been  called.  I 
fancy  that  Lanigan  had  reasons  of  his  own  for  saying 
we  had  gone  to  Lethbury." 

Poor  Mr.  Tippengray  was  downcast.  How  much 
time  must  elapse  before  he  would  have  an  opportunity 
to  deliver  the  piece  of  paper  he  had  in  his  pocket ! 
How  long  would  he  be  obliged  to  lounge  around  by 
himself  waiting  for  Ida  Mayberry  to  return ! 

"Well,"  said  Calthea,  "I  must  go  home,  and  as  I 
ought  to  have  been  there  long  ago,  I  am  going  to  ask 
Mr.  Fetter  to  lend  me  a  horse  and  buggy.  It 's  the 
greatest  pity,  Mr.  Tippengray,  that  you  have  lost 
your  drive  with,  your  friends,  but  as  you  can't  have 
that,  suppose  you  take  one  with  me.  I  don't  mind 
acknowledging  to  you  that  I  am  a  little  afraid  of  Mr. 
Fetter's  horses,  but  with  you  driving  I  should  feel 
quite  safe." 

If  Mr.  Tippengray  could  have  immediately  thought 
of  any  good  reason  why  he  should  have  staid  at 
home  that  morning  he  would  probably  have  given  it, 
but  none  came  into  his  mind.  After  all,  he  might  as 
well  be  driving  to  Lethbury  as  staying  there  doing 
nothing,  and  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  Miss  Cal 
thea  was  very  agreeable  that  morning.  Consequently 
he  accepted  the  invitation. 

Calthea  Rose  went  herself  to  the  barn  to  speak  to 
Mr.  Fetter  about  the  horse,  and  especially  requested 
that  he  would  lend  her  old  Zahringen,  whom  she 
knew  to  be  the  most  steady  of  beasts,  but  Zahringen 
had  gone  to  be  shod,  and  there  was  no  horse  at  her 


186  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

service  except  Hammerstein,  and  no  vehicle  but  a  vil 
lage  cart.  Hammerstein  was  a  better  horse  than  Zahrin- 
gen,  and  would  take  Calthea  home  more  rapidly,  which 
entirely  suited  Mr.  Fetter. 

It  may  be  here  remarked  that  the  barn  and  stables 
were  not  of  Mr.  Fetter's  building,  but  in  order  that 
they  might  not  be  entirely  exempt  from  the  influence 
of  his  architectural  fancies,  he  had  given  his  horses 
the  names  of  certain  castles  on  the  Rhine. 

Calthea  was  not  altogether  satisfied  with  the  sub 
stitution  of  the  big  black  horse  for  the  fat  brown 
one,  but  she  could  make  no  reasonable  objection,  and 
the  vehicle  was  soon  at  the  door. 

Mr.  Tippengray  was  very  fond  of  driving,  and  his 
spirits  had  risen  again.  But  he  was  a  good  deal  sur 
prised  when  Miss  Calthea  declined  to  take  the  seat 
beside  him,  preferring  to  occupy  the  rear  seat  with 
her  back  to  the  horse.  By  turning  a  little  to  one 
side,  she  said  she  could  talk  just  as  well,  and  it  was 
more  comfortable  in  such  a  small  vehicle  as  a  village 
cart  to  have  a  whole  seat  to  one's  self. 

As  soon  as  they  were  in  the  road  that  ran  through 
the  woods  she  proved  that  she  could  twist  herself 
around  so  as  to  talk  to  her  companion,  and  look  him 
in  the  face,  quite  as  easily  as  if  she  had  been  sitting 
beside  him.  They  chatted  together,  and  looked  each 
other  in  the  face,  and  the  Greek  scholar  enjoyed  driv 
ing  very  much  until  they  had  gone  a  mile  or  more  on 
the  main  road,  and  had  come  upon  an  overturned 
wagon  lying  by  the  roadside.  At  this  Hammerstein 
and  the  conversation  suddenly  stopped.  The  big 
black  horse  was  very  much  opposed  to  overturned 


188  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

vehicles.  He  knew  that  iu  some  way  they  were  con 
nected  with  disaster,  and  he  would  not  willingly  go 
near  one.  He  stood  head  up,  ears  forward,  and 
slightly  snorting.  Mr.  Tippengray  was  annoyed  by 
this  nonsense. 

"  Go  on ! "  he  cried,  "  Get  up ! "  Then  the  driver 
took  the  whip  from  the  socket  and  gave  the  horse 
a  good  crack. 

"  Get  up  ! "  he  cried. 

Hammerstein  obeyed,  but  got  up  in  a  manner  which 
Mr.  Tippengray  did  not  intend.  He  arose  upon  his 
hind  legs,  and  pawed  the  air,  appearing  to  the  two 
persons  behind  him  like  a  tall,  black,  unsteady 
steeple. 

When  a  horse  harnessed  to  a  village  cart  sees  fit  to 
rear,  the  hind  part  of  the  vehicle  is  brought  very  near 
to  the  ground,  so  that  a  person  sitting  on  the  back 
seat  can  step  out  without  trouble.  Miss  Calthea  per 
ceived  this  and  stepped  out.  On  general  principles 
she  had  known  that  it  was  safer  to  alight  from  the 
hind  seat  of  a  village  cart  than  from  the  front  seat. 

"  Don't  pull  at  him  that  way,"  she  cried  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  road,  "  he  will  go  over  backwards 
on  top  of  you.  Let  him  alone  and  perhaps  he  will 
stop  rearing." 

Hammerstein  now  stood  on  all  his  feet  again,  and 
Miss  Calthea  earnestly  advised  Mr.  Tippengray  to 
turn  him  around  and  drive  back. 

"  I  am  not  far  from  home  now,"  she  said,  "  and  can 
easily  walk  there.  I  really  think  I  do  not  care  to  get 
in  again.  But  I  am  sure  he  will  go  home  to  his  stable 
without  giving  you  any  trouble." 


THE  SQUIREEL  INN.  189 

But  Mr.  Tippengray's  spirit  was  up,  and  he  would 
not  be  conquered  by  a  horse,  especially  in  the  pres 
ence  of  a  lady. 

"  I  shall  make  him  pass  it,"  he  cried,  and  he  brought 
down  his  whip  on  Hammerstein's  back  with  such  force 
that  the  startled  animal  gave  a  great  bound  forward, 
and  then,  finding  himself  so  near  the  dreaded  wreck, 
he  gave  a  wilder  bound,  and  passed  it.  Then,  being 
equipped  with  blinders,  which  did  not  allow  him  to 
see  behind  him,  he  did  not  know  but  the  frightful 
wagon,  its  wheels  uppermost,  was  wildly  pursuing 
him,  and,  fearing  that  this  might  be  so,  he  galloped 
onward  with  all  his  speed. 

The  Greek  scholar  pulled  at  the  reins  and  shouted 
in  such  a  way  that  Hammerstein  was  convinced  that 
he  was  being  urged  to  use  all  efforts  to  get  away  from 
the  oncoming  monster.  He  did  not  turn  into  the 
Lethbury  road  when  he  came  to  it,  but  kept  straight 
on.  At  such  a  moment  the  straighter  the  road  the 
better.  Going  down  a  long  hill,  Mr.  Tippengray,  still 
pulling  and  shouting,  and  now  hatless,  perceived, 
some  distance  ahead  of  him,  a  boy  standing  by  the 
roadside.  It  was  easy  enough  for  the  practised  eye 
of  a  country  boy  to  take  in  the  state  of  affairs,  and 
his  instincts  prompted  him  to  skip  across  the  road  and 
open  a  gate  which  led  into  a  field  recently  plowed. 

Mr.  Tippengray  caught  at  the  boy's  idea  and,  exer 
cising  all  his  strength,  he  turned  Hammerstein  into 
the  open  gateway.  When  he  had  made  a  dozen 
plunges  into  the  deep  furrows  and  through  the  soft 
yielding  loam,  the  horse  concluded  that  he  had  had 
enough  of  that  sort  of  exercise,  and  stopped.  Mr. 


190  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

Tippengray,  whose  senses  had  been  nearly  bounced 
out  of  him,  sprang  from  the  cart,  and,  slipping  on  the 
uneven  surface  of  the  ground,  tumbled  into  a  deep 
furrow,  from  which,  "however,  he  instantly  arose  with 
out  injury,  except  to  his  clothes.  Hurrying  to  the 
head  of  the  horse  he  found  the  boy  already  there, 
holding  the  now  quiet  animal.  The  Greek  scholar 
looked  at  him  admiringly. 

"My  young  friend,"  said  he,  "that  was  a  noble 
thought,  worthy  of  a  philosopher." 

The  boy  grinned. 

"  They  generally  stop  when  they  get  into  a  plowed 
field,"  he  said.  "  What  skeered  him  f " 

Mr.  Tippengray  briefly  related  the  facts  of  the  case, 
and  the  horse  was  led  into  the  road.  It  was  soon 
ascertained  that  no  material  harm  had  been  done  to 
harness  or  vehicle. 

"Young  man,"  said  Mr.  Tippengray,  "what  will 
you  take  for  your  hat?" 

The  boy  removed  his  head-covering  and  looked  at 
it.  It  was  of  coarse  straw,  very  wide,  very  much  out 
of  shape,  without  a  band,  and  with  a  hole  in  the 
crown  surrounded  by  a  tuft  of  broken  straw. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  it  ain't  worth  much  now,  but  it  '11 
take  a  quarter  to  buy  a  new  one." 

"  Here  is  a  quarter  for  your  hat,"  said  the  Greek 
scholar,  "  and  another  for  your  perspicacity.  I  sup 
pose  I  shall  find  my  hat  on  the  road,  but  I  cannot 
wait  for  that.  The  sun  is  too  hot." 

The  Greek  scholar  now  started  homeward,  leading 
Hammerstein.  He  liked  walking,  and  had  no  inten 
tion  whatever  of  again  getting  into  that  cart.  If, 


192 


THE  SQUIEREL  INN. 


when  they  reached  the  overturned  wagon,  the  animal 
should  again  upheave  himself,  or  in  any  way  mis 
behave,  Mr.  Tippengray  intended  to  let  go  of  him, 
and  allow  him  to  pursue  his  homeward  way  in  such 
manner  and  at  such  speed  as  might  best  please  him. 

The  two  walked  a  long  distance  without  reaching 
the  object  of  Hammerstein's  fright,  and  Mr.  Tippen 
gray  began  to  think  that  the  road  was  a  good  deal 


MR.    TIPPENGRAY   STOPPED  AND   LISTENED. 

narrower  and  more  shaded  than  he  had  supposed  it  to 
be.  The  fact  was,  that  a  road  diverged  from  the  right, 
near  the  top  of  the  hill,  which  he  had  not  noticed 
when  passing  it  in  mad  career,  and  naturally  turning 
to  the  right,  without  thinking  very  much  about  it,  he 
had  taken  this  road  instead  of  the  one  by  which 
he  had  come.  Our  scholar,  however,  did  not  yet 
comprehend  that  he  was  on  the  wrong  road,  and 
kept  on. 


THE  SQUIREEL  INN.  193 

Soon  his  way  led  through  the  woods,  with  great  out 
stretching  trees,  with  wide-open  spaces,  interspersed 
here  and  there  with  masses  of  undergrowth.  Mr. 
Tippengray  greatly  enjoyed  the  shaded  road,  the  smell 
of  the  pines,  and  the  flowers  scattered  along  the  edges 
of  the  wood.  But  in  a  few  minutes  he  would  doubt 
less  have  discovered  that  he  had  gone  astray,  and, 
notwithstanding  the  pleasantness  of  his  surround 
ings,  he  would  have  turned  back,  had  he  not  suddenly 
heard  voices  not  far  away.  He  stopped  and  listened. 

The  voices  came  from  behind  a  clump  of  evergreens 
close  by  the  roadside,  and  to  his  utter  amazement  Mr. 
Tippengray  heard  the  voice  of  Lanigan  Beam  saying 
to  some  one  that  true  love  must  speak  out,  and  could 
not  be  silenced ;  that  for  days  he  had  been  looking 
for  an  opportunity,  and  now  that  it  had  come  she  must 
hear  him,  and  know  that  his  heart  was  hers  only,  and 
could  never  belong  to  anybody  else.  Then  the  voice 
of  Ida  Mayberry,  very  clear  and  distinct,  replied  that 
he  must  not  talk  to  her  in  that  way,  that  her  line 
of  life  and  his  were  entirely  different.  And  she  was 
doubtless  going  to  say  more,  when  her  companion 
interrupted,  and  vowed  with  all  possible  earnestness 
that  whatever  line  of  life  she  chose  should  be  his  line ; 
that  he  would  gladly  give  up  every  plan  and  purpose, 
follow  her  in  whatever  direction  she  chose  to  lead,  and 
do  whatever  she  wished  he  should  do. 

Mr.  Tippengray  was  very  uneasy.  The  subject- 
matter  of  the  conversation  he  was  overhearing  dis 
turbed  him  in  a  manner  which  he  did  not  understand, 
and  he  felt,  moreover,  that  it  was  not  proper  for  him 
to  listen  to  another  word.  He  did  not  know  what  to 


194  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

do ;  if  he  moved  forward  they  would  hear  the  wheels, 
aud  know  that  he  had  been  near,  and  if  he  attempted  to 
back  out  of  the  vicinity  there  was  no  knowing  what 
hubbub  he  and  Hammerstein  might  create.  While 
standing  undecided,  he  heard  Lanigan  speak  thus : 

"And  as  for  Greek,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  you 
shall  have  all  you  want.     I  '11  hire  old  Tippengray  by 
the  year ;  he  shall  be  the  family  pedagogue,  and  we  '11 
tap  him  for  any  kind  of  learning  we  may  happen  to . 
want." 

Instantly  all  thought  of  retreat  fled  from  the  mind 
of  the  scholar ;  his  eyes  glittered,  and  he  was  on  the 
point  of  doing  something,  when  there  came  from  a 
little  distance  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Cristie,  loudly  calling 
for  Ida.  There  was  shuffling  of  feet,  and  in  a  few 
moments  Mr.  Tippengray  perceived  the  nurse-maid 
rapidly  walking  away  between  the  trees  while  Lani 
gan  leisurely  followed. 

With  head  erect  and  nostrils  dilated,  as  if  he  had 
been  excited  by  the  perception  of  something  upside 
down,  Mr.  Tippengray  again  laid  hold  of  the  bridle  of 
Hammerstein,  and  went  on.  In  a  few  minutes  he 
emerged  upon  an  open  space,  through  which  flowed 
a  little  brook,  and  where  sat  Mrs.  Cristie,  Lodloe,  Ida 
Mayberry  with  the  baby  in  her  lap,  and  Lanigan 
Beam.  All  of  these  persons,  excepting  the  infant, 
were  eating  sandwiches. 

At  the  sight  of  the  little  man  and  the  tall  horse,  the 
former  spattered  with  mud,  smeared  with  the  earth 
of  the  plowed  field,  and  crowned  with  a  misshapen 
hat  with  the  expansive  hole  in  the  top,  the  sandwich- 
eaters  stopped  eating,  gazed  open-eyed,  and  then 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  195 

burst  out  laughing.  Mr.  Tippengray  did  not  laugh ; 
his  eyes  still  glittered. 

It  was  half  an  hour  before  the  tale  was  told,  order 
restored,  and  Mr.  Tippengray  had  washed  his  face 
and  hands  in  the  brook  and  taken  refreshment.  Then 
he  found  himself  alone  with  Mrs.  Cristie. 

"  Truly  you  have  had  a  hard  time,"  said  she,  kindly. 

"  Madam,"  answered  the  Greek  scholar,  "  you  are 
entirely  correct.  This  has  been  an  unfortunate  day 
for  me.  I  have  been  cunningly  entrapped,  and  heart 
lessly  deserted;  I  have  been  nearly  frightened  out 
of  my  wits;  have  had  my  soul  nearly  burned  out  of 
my  body,  and  have  been  foully  besmirched  with  dirt 
and  mud.  But,  worse  than  all,  I  have  heard  myself 
made  the  subject  of  contempt  and  contumely." 

"  How  is  that  ? "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cristie.  "  I  do  not 
understand." 

"  I  will  quickly  make  it  plain  to  you,"  said  the 
indignant  scholar,  and  he  related  the  conversation  he 
had  overheard. 

"  "What  a  shameful  way  to  speak  of  you,  Mr.  Tip 
pengray!"  cried  Mrs.  Cristie.  "I  did  not  suppose 
that  Mr.  Beam  would  dare  to  say  such  things  to  one 
whom  he  knew  to  be  your  friend.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  if  I  had  not  called  Ida  at  that  moment,  you 
would  have  heard  her  resent  that  disrespectful 
speech." 

"  I  hope  so ;  with  all  my  heart,  I  hope  so,"  replied 
the  Greek  scholar. 

He  said  this  with  so  much  feeling  that  his  com 
panion  looked  at  him  a  few  moments  without 
speaking. 


196  THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 

"  Mr.  Tippengray,"  she  said  presently,  "  it  is  time 
for  us  to  go  home.  How  would  you  like  to  take  Ida 
Mayberry  back  in  your  cart  ?  " 

The  brightness  in  the  eyes  of  the  Greek  scholar 
changed  from  the  glitter  of  indignation  to  gleams 
of  joy. 

"  Madam/'  said  he,  "  I  should  like  it  of  all  things. 
It  would  remove  from  the  anticipated  pleasures  of  this 
day  the  enormous  Alpha  privative  which  has  so  far 
overshadowed  them." 

The  young  widow  did  not  exactly  comprehend  this 
answer,  but  it  was  enough  to  know  that  he  was  glad 
to  accept  the  opportunity  she  offered  him.  No  sooner 
had  he  spoken  than  Mr.  Tippengray  remembered  the 
hazards  to  which  he  was  exposing  himself  by  again 
taking  the  reins  of  Hammerstein,  but  not  for  an 
instant  did  he  think  of  drawing  back.  His  desire  to 
take  Ida  Mayberry  away  from  that  fellow,  and  have  her 
by  himself,  overpowered  fear  and  all  other  feelings. 

Mrs.  Gristle's  arrangement  for  the  return  pleased 
everybody  except  Lanigan  Beam.  The  nurse-maid 
was  perfectly  willing  to  go  in  the  village  cart,  and 
was  not  at  all  afraid  of  horses,  and  Walter  Lodloe 
had  no  objection  to  sit  on  the  back  seat  of  the  wagon 
with  his  lady-love,  and  help  take  care  of  the  baby. 
Lanigan  made  few  remarks  about  the  situation;  he 
saw  that  he  had  made  a  mistake,  and  was  being  pun 
ished  for  it,  and  without  remonstrance  he  took  the 
front  seat  and  the  reins  of  the  grays. 


XXIV 


TRANSLATIONS 


ANIGAN  BEAM  had  no  more  fear 
of  Mr.  Tippengray  as  a  rival  than 
he  would  have  had  of  Mr.  Fetter, 
but  the  apportionment  of  compan 
ions  for  the  return  trip  nettled  him 
a  good  deal,  and,  as  a  consequence  of 
this,  the  pair  of  grays  traveled  homeward  at  a  smarter 
pace,  and  Hammerstein  and  the  village  cart  were 
soon  left  far  behind. 

The  road  was  not  the  one  by  which  Mr.  Tippengray 
had  arrived  on  the  scene,  but  led  through  the  woods 
to  the  main  road,  which  it  joined  at  a  point  not  far 
from  the  sign  of  the  Squirrel  Inn.  Hammerstein 
traveled  very  quietly  and  steadily  of  his  own  accord, 
slackening  his  gait  at  the  rough  places,  thus  giving 
Mr.  Tippengray  every  opportunity  for  an  uninter 
rupted  converse  with  his  fellow  scholar ;  and  he  lost 
no  time  in  submitting  to  her  his  Greek  version  of  the 
lines  from  "  Pickwick." 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  it  with  you,"  said  Ida, 
"for  I  put  my  Greek  dictionary  in  my  pocket  this 
morning,  when  I  first  came  down,  hoping  to  have  a 

197 


198  THE   SQUIEREL  INN. 

chance  to  do  some  translating,  and  what  better  chance 
could  I  have  than  this  ?  " 

Drawing  out  her  dictionary  and  a  little  blank-book 
she  immediately  began  her  labors.  Mr.  Tippengray 
did  not  altogether  like  this.  He  felt  an  intense  and 
somewhat  novel  desire  to  converse  with  the  young 
woman  on  no  matter  what  subject,  and  he  would 
have  preferred  that  she  should  postpone  the  trans- 


THE   TRANSLATION. 


lation.  But  he  would  not  interrupt  the  engrossing 
occupation  into-  which  she  now  plunged  with  ardor. 
Rapidly  turning  backward  and  forward  the  leaves  of 
the  little  dictionary,  and  tapping  her  front  teeth  with 
her  pencil  as  she  puzzled  over  the  correlation  of 
Greek  and  English  words  and  expressions,  she  silently 
pursued  her  work. 

Although  he  did  not  talk  to  her,  it  was  very  pleas 
ant  for  Mr.  Tippengray  to  sit  and  look  upon  this  fair 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  199 

young  scholar.  At  her  request  he  made  the  tall  steed 
walk,  iu  order  that  her  pencil  might  not  be  too  much 
joggled,  slyly  thinking,  the  while,  that  thus  the  inter 
view  would  be  prolonged.  The  air  was  warm  and 
balmy.  Everything  was  still  about  them.  They  met 
no  one,  and  every  minute  Mr.  Tippengray  became 
more  and  more  convinced  that,  next  to  talking  to  her, 
there  could  be  no  greater  joy  in  life  than  basking  in 
the  immediate  atmosphere  of  this  girl. 

At  last  she  shut  up  her  dictionary. 

"  Now,  then  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  have  translated  it, 
and  I  assure  you  that  it  is  a  fair  and  square  version, 
for  I  do  not  in  the  least  remember  the  original  para 
graph." 

"  I  have  the  original  here,"  said  Mr.  Tippengray, 
pulling  the  second  volume  of  "Pickwick"  from  his 
pocket,  "  and  we  will  compare  it  with  your  trans 
lation,  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  read  it.  You  do 
not  know  with  what  anxious  enthusiasm  I  await  the 
result." 

"  And  I,  too,"  said  Ida,  earnestly.  "  I  do  not  think 
there  could  be  a  better  test  of  the  power  of  the  Greek 
language  to  embalm  and  preserve  for  future  genera 
tions  the  spirit  of  Dickens.  Now  I  will  read,  and  you 
can  compare  my  work  with  the  original  as  I  go  on." 

The  translation  ran  thus : 

"  For  the  reason  that  he  who  drives  a  vehicle  of  the  post-road 
holds  high  office  above  the  masses,"  to  him  answered  the  Sire 
Weller  with  eyes  affiliated ;  "  for  the  reason  that  he  who  drives 
a  vehicle  of  the  post-road  acteth  at  will,  undoubted,  humanity 
otherwise  prohibited.  For  the  reason  that  he  who  drives  a  vehi 
cle  of  the  post-road  is  able  to  look  with  affection  on  a  woman  of 
eighty  far  distant,  though  it  is  not  publicly  believed  that  in  the 


200  THE  SQUIBEEL  INN. 

midst  of  any  it  is  his  desire  to  wed.    Among  males  which  one 
discourseth  similarly,  Sammy  ?  " 

"I  wrote  Sammy/'  she  explained,  "because  I  re 
membered  that  is  the  way  the  name  is  used  in 
English." 

Mr.  Tippengray  raised  his  eyebrows  very  high,  and 
his  chin  slowly  began  to  approach  the  sailor  knot  of 
his  cravat. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  he  said,  "  I  am  afraid  that  this  would 
not  express  to  future  ages  the  spirit  and  style  of 
Dickens.  The  original  passage  runs  thus,"  and  he 
read: 

"  'Cos  a  coachman  's  a  privileged  individual,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller,  looking  fixedly  at  his  son.  "  'Cos  a  coachman  may  do 
without  suspicion  wot  other  men  may  not ;  'cos  a  coachman  may 
be  on  the  very  amicablest  terms  with  eighty  mile  o'  females  and 
yet  nobody  thinks  that  he  ever  means  to  marry  any  vun  among 
'em.  And  wot  other  man  can  say  the  same,  Sammy?" 

"  They  are  not  much  alike,  are  they  ? "  said  Miss 
Mayberry.  "I  think  if  Dickens  could  read  my  trans 
lation  he  would  not  in  the  least  recognize  it.  The 
fact  is,  Mr.  Tippengray,  I  do  not  believe  that  your 
method  of  Greek  pickling  will  answer  to  preserve  our 
fiction  for  the  future.  It  may  do  for  histories  and 
scientific  work,  but  when  you  come  to  dialect  and 
vernacular,  if  you  once  get  it  into  Greek  you  can 
never  get  it  back  again  as  it  used  to  be." 

"  That  will  be  a  great  pity,"  said  Mr.  Tippengray, 
"  for  fiction  makes  up  such  a  large  part  of  our  litera 
ture.  And  it  does  seem  that  good  English  might  be 
properly  translated  into  good  Greek." 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  201 

"  Oh,  it  is  n't  the  translation,"  said  Ida ;  "  that  is  all 
easy  enough:  it  's  the  resurrection  back  into  the 
original  condition.  Look  at  the  prophet  Enoch.  He 
was  translated,  but  if  it  were  possible  now  to  bring 
him  back  again,  he  would  not  be  the  same  Enoch, 
you  know." 

"  One  might  infer  from  that  simile,"  said  the  Greek 
scholar,  smiling,  "that  when  a  bit  of  English  gets 
into  Greek  it  goes  to  heaven,  and  would  better  stay 
there.  Perhaps  you  are  right  in  what  you  say  about 
fiction.  Anyway  it  is  very  pleasant  to  talk  with  one 
who  can  appreciate  this  subject,  and  reason  sensibly 
about  it." 

Mr.  Tippengray  shut  up  his  book  and  put  it  back 
into  his  pocket,  while  his  companion  tore  her  trans 
lation  from  her  note-book  and  scattered  it  in  little 
bits  along  the  road. 

"  I  would  not  like  it,"  she  said,  "  if  any  one  but  you 
were  to  read  that  and  know  I  did  it." 

Mr.  Tippengray's  eyes  and  Mr.  Tippengray's  heart 
turned  towards  her.  Those  words,  "any  one  but 
you,"  touched  him  deeply.  He  had  a  feeling  as  if  he 
were  being  translated  into  something  better  than  his 
original  self,  and  that  this  young  woman  was  doing  it. 
He  wished  to  express  this  in  some  way,  and  to  say  a 
good  many  other  things  which  came  crowding  upon 
his  mind,  but  he  expressed  nothing  and  said  none  of 
these  things.  An  exclamation  from  Ida  caused  him  to 
look  in  front  of  him,  and  there  was  the  spring  wagon 
with  the  horses  standing  still. 

Mrs.  Cristie  turned  round  and  called  to  them : 

"  Mr.  Beam  says  that  there  are  some  by-roads  just 


202  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

ahead  of  us,  and  as  he  was  afraid  you  might  turn  into 
one  and  get  lost,  he  thought  it  better  to  wait  for  you." 

"  Nonsense ! "  cried  Miss  May  berry ;  "  there  was  no 
danger  that  we  would  turn  into  any  by-ways.  The 
road  is  plain  enough." 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Mr.  Tippengray  to 
himself.  "  I  think  that  just  now  I  was  on  the  point 
of  turning  into  a  by-way." 

The  wagon  now  moved  slowly  on,  and  the  village 
cart  followed.  Mr.  Tippengray  would  gladly  have 
dropped  a  good  deal  behind,  but  he  found  this  not 
practicable,  because  whenever  he  made  Hamnierstein 
walk  Stolzenfels  and  Falkenberg  also  walked.  It 
was  plain  enough  that  Lanigan  Beam  did  not  wish 
any  longer  to  cut  himself  off  from  the  society  of  the 
lady  to  whom  he  had  made  a  proposal  of  marriage,  and 
whenever  he  could  find  a  pretext,  which  was  not  diffi 
cult  for  Lanigan,  he  called  back  to  her  to  direct  her 
attention  to  something,  or  to  ask  her  opinion  about 
something.  Miss  Mayberry  did  not  respond  with  any 
readiness,  but  the  persistence  of  the  young  man  suc 
ceeded  in  making  the  conversation  a  general  one,  and 
the  Greek  scholar  made  no  attempt  to  explain  to  the 
nurse-maid  that  he  was  in  course  of  translation. 

Dinner  was  very  late  at  the  Squirrel  Inn  that  day, 
and  Mrs.  Fetter  gave  her  guests  a  scolding.  But  this 
did  not  in  the  least  disturb  the  mind  of  Mr.  Tippen 
gray,  who  was  well  used  to  being  scolded  for  coming 
late  to  his  meals.  But  something  else  disturbed  him, 
and  for  nearly  an  hour  after  dinner  he  wandered 
about  the  lawn  and  around  the  house.  He  wanted 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  203 

very  much  to  see  Miss  Mayberry  again,  and  to  tell 
her  the  things  he  did  not  have  a  chance  to  tell  her  on 
the  road,  and  he  also  very  much  wished  to  prevent 
that  rascally  Lanigan  Beam  from  getting  ahead  of 
him,  and  continuing  his  broken-off  interview  with  the 
lady. 


XXV 


MR.    TIPPENGRAY    MOUNTS    HIGH 


T  seemed  as  if  every  one  must  be 
taking  an  afternoon  nap,  for  the 
Greek  scholar  had  the  grounds  to 
himself.  When  he  began  to  be  tired 
of  walking,  he  seated  himself  where 
he  had  a  good  view  of  the  house, 
and  presently  saw  Ida  Mayberry  at  her  window,  with 
the  young  Douglas  in  her  arms.  Almost  at  the  same 
moment  he  saw  Lanigan  Beam  approaching  from  the 
direction  of  the  barns. 

"If  he  turns  his  steps  towards  that  window," 
thought  the  scholar,  "  I  shall  see  to  it  that  I  am  there 
before  him." 

But  the  young  man  did  not  walk  towards  the  front 
of  the  house,  but  went  in  the  direction  of  his  room, 
where  the  ladder  stood  leaning  against  the  open 
window.  Mounting  this,  he  disappeared  within. 

The  eyes  of  Mr.  Tippengray  flashed,  and  his  face 
was  lighted  by  a  bright  thought.  In  an  instant  he 
was  on  his  feet  and  running  lightly  towards  Lani- 
gan's  room.  Cautiously  and  silently  he  approached 
the  ladder;  deftly,  and  without  making  the  least 

204 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  205 

noise,  he  moved  the  upper  end  of  it  from  the  side  of 
the  building,  and  then,  putting  it  on  his  shoulder, 
gently  walked  away  with  it. 

Around  to  the  front  of  the  house  Mr.  Tippengray 
carried  the  ladder,  and  boldly  placed  it  nearly  upright, 
under  Miss  Mayberry's  window.  In  astonishment 
that  young  lady  looked  out,  and  asked  him  what  in 
the  world  he  was  doing. 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Tippengray, 
"on  a  subject  of  great  importance,  and  I  cannot 
afford  to  lose  this  opportunity,  May  I  come  up?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Ida. 

In  a  moment  the  Greek  scholar  was  standing  on 
one  of  the  upper  rounds  of  the  ladder,  with  his  head 
and  shoulders  well  above  the  window-sill.  Little 
Douglas  was  delighted  to  see  him,  and,  taking  hold  of 
his  outstretched  forefinger,  gave  it  a  good  wag. 

"  It  was  a  capital  notion,"  said  Mr.  Tippengray,  "for 
me  to  take  this  ladder.  In  the  first  place,  it  enables 
me  to  get  up  to  you,  and  secondly,  it  prevents  Lani- 
gan  Beam  from  getting  down  from  his  room." 

Miss  Mayberry  laughed,  and  the  baby  crowed  in 
sympathy. 

"Why  should  n't  he  get  down,  Mr.  Tippengray?" 
said  she. 

"  If  he  did,"  was  the  answer,  "  he  would  be  sure  to 
interfere  with  me.  He  would  come  here,  and  I  don't 
want  him.  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  Miss 
Mayberry,  and  I  must  be  brief  in  saying  it,  for  by 
standers,  no  matter  who  they  might  be,  would  pre 
vent  my  speaking  plainly.  I  have  become  convinced, 
Miss  Mayberry,  that  my  life  will  be  imperfect,  and  in- 


206 


THE  SQUIEEEL  INN. 


deed  worthless,  if  I  cannot  pass  it  in  prosecuting  my 
studies  in  your  company,  and  with  your  assistance. 
You  may  think  this  strong  language,  but  it  is  true." 
"  That  would  be  very  pleasant,"  said  the  nurse 
maid,  "  but  I  do  not  see  how  you  are  going  to  manage 


THE   PROPOSAL. 

it.  My  stay  here  will  soon  come  to  an  end,  for  if 
Mrs.  Cristie  does  not  return  to  the  city  in  a  week  or 
two,  I  must  leave  her.  I  am  a  teacher,  you  know,  and 
before  the  end  of  the  summer  vacation,  I  must  go  and 
make  my  arrangements  for  the  next  term,  and  then  you 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN.  207 

can  easily  see  for  yourself  that  when  I  am  engaged  in 
a  school  I  cannot  do  very  much  studying  with  you." 

"Oh,  my  dear  young  lady,"  cried  Mr.  Tippengray, 
"you  do  not  catch  my  idea.  I  am  not  thinking  of 
schools  or  positions,  and  I  do  not  wish  you  to  think  of 
them.  I  wish  you  to  know  that  you  have  translated  me 
from  a  quiet  scholar  into  an  ardent  lover,  and  that  it 
would  be  of  no  use  at  all  to  try  to  get  me  back  into 
my  original  condition.  If  I  cannot  be  the  man  I  want 
to  be,  I  cannot  be  the  man  I  was.  I  ask  you  for  your 
hands,  your  heart,  and  your  intellect.  I  invite  you 
to  join  me  in  pursuing  the  higher  education  until  the 
end  of  our  lives.  Take  me  for  your  scholar  and  be 
mine.  I  pray  you  give  me  — 

"  Upon  —  my  word ! "  was  the  ejaculation,  loud  and 
distinct,  which  came  up  from  the  foot  of  the  ladder, 
and  stopped  Mr.  Tippengray's  avowal.  Miss  May- 
berry  instantly  thrust  her  head  out  of  the  window,  and 
Mr.  Tippengray  looked  down.  It  was  Calthea  Rose 
who  had  spoken,  and  she  stood  under  the  window  in 
company  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fetter.  A  short  distance 
away,  and  rapidly  approaching,  were  Mrs.  Cristie  and 
Walter  Lodloe. 

"Here  is  gratitude!"  cried  Calthea,  in  stinging 
tones.  "  I  came  all  the  way  back  from  Lethbury  to 
see  if  anything  had  happened  to  you  and  that  horse, 
and  this  is  what  I  find.  The  top  of  a  ladder  and  a 
child's  nurse !  Such  a  disgrace  never  fell  on  this 
county." 

"  Never,  indeed,"  cried  Mrs.  Fetter.  "  I  would  n't 
have  believed  it  if  angels  had  got  down  on  their 
knees  and  sworn  it  to  me.  Come  down  from  that 


208  THE  SQUIREEL  INN. 

ladder,  Mr.  Tippengray  !  Come  down  from  it  before 
I  make  my  husband  break  it  to  bits  beneath  you. 
Come  down,  I  say ! " 

"  Mr.  Tippengray/'  said  Mr.  Fetter,  in  solemn  voice, 
"in  the  name  of  the  laws  of  domesticity  and  the 
hearthstone,  and  in  the  honorable  name  of  the  Squir 
rel  Inn,  I  command  you  to  come  down." 

There  was  but  one  thing  for  Mr.  Tippengray  to  do, 
and  that  was  to  come  down,  and  so  down  he  came. 

"  Disgraceful ! "  cried  Miss  Rose;  "  you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  to  look  anybody  in  the  face." 

"  Never  would  I  have  believed  it,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Fetter.  "  Never,  never,  if  I  had  not  seen  it  with  my 
own  eyes,  and  in  broad  daylight  too ! " 

What  Mr.  Tippengray  would  have  said  or  done  is 
not  known,  for  at  that  instant  Ida  Mayberry  leaned 
far  out  of  the  window  and  claimed  the  attention  of 
the  company. 

"  Look  here ! "  she  cried,  "  we  have  had  enough  of 
this.  Mr.  Tippengray  has  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of, 
and  he  had  a  perfect  right  to  climb  up  this  ladder. 
I  want  you  all  to  understand  that  we  are  engaged  to 
be  married." 

This  announcement  fell  like  a  sudden  downpour 
upon  the  people  beneath  the  window,  and  they  stood 
silenced;  but  in  an  instant  the  Greek  scholar  bounded 
up  the  ladder,  and,  seizing  Miss  Mayberry  by  the 
hand,  kissed  it  rapturously. 

"  I  may  have  been  a  little  abrupt,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  but  I  was  n't  going  to  stand  here  and  let  our 
affair  be  broken  off  like  that." 

At  Mr.   Tippengray's   spontaneous    exhibition   of 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 


209 


tender  affection,  Mr.  Fetter 
involuntarily  and  reverently 
took  off  his  hat,  while  Mrs. 
Cristie  and  Lodloe  clapped 
their    hands.      The    lover, 
with  radiant  face,  now  de 
scended  the  ladder  and  re 
ceived  congratulations  from 
everybody     except     Miss 
Calthea,    who,    with   her 
nose  pointed  about  forty- 
five  degrees  above  the 
horizon,  walked  rapidly 
to  the  post  where  she 
had  tied  her  horse. 


MR.    FETTER   TAKES   OFF   HIS   HAT. 


THE   SQUIRREL  INN. 


Miss  Mayberry  now  appeared,  with  the  baby  in  her 
arms,  and  an  expression  of  great  satisfaction  upon 
her  face.  Mrs.  Cristie  relieved  her  of  the  first,  but 
the  latter  increased  as  the  little  company  heartily 
shook  hands  with  her. 

"I  had  supposed  it  would 
be  different  with  you,  Mr. 
Tippengray,"  said  Mrs.  Fetter, 
"but  people  ought  to  know 
their  own  minds,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  that  Calthea  would 
have  often  made  it  very  hot 
for  you,  especially  if  you  did 
not  turn  over  an  entirely  new 
leaf  in  regard  to  coming  to 
your  meals.  But  there  must 
be  no  more  laddering;  whether 
it  is  right  or  not,  it  does  not 
look  so.  When  Ida  is  n't  tend 
ing  to  the  child,  and  it  's  too 
wet  to  be  out  of  doors,  you  can  have  the  little 
parlor  to  yourselves.  I  '11  have  it  dusted  and  aired." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Lodloe,  coming  forward,  "  but  if 
you  have  no  further  use  for  that  ladder,  Mr.  Tippen 
gray,  I  will  take  it  to  Lanigan  Beam,  who  is  leaning 
out  of  his  window,  and  shouting  like  mad.  I  presume 
he  wants  to  come  down,  and  as  I  have  locked  the 
door  of  my  room  he  cannot  descend  in  that  way." 

"Poor  Lanigan!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Fetter,  "he 
does  n't  know  what  he  's  coming  down  to.  But  no 
matter  what  he  undertakes  he  is  always  a  day  after 
the  fair." 


LANIGAN  BEAM  WANTS 
HIS    LADDER. 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  211 

Mr.  Fetter  drew  the  Greek  scholar  aside. 

"My  dear  sir,"  he  said  expressively,  "I  have  a 
special  reason  for  congratulating  you  on  your  decision 
to  unite  your  blood  and  culture  with  those  of  another. 
Had  you  been  entrapped  by  the  wiles  of  our  Lethbury 
neighbor,  a  person  for  whom  I  have  but  slight  regard, 
and  who  is  looked  upon  with  decided  disapprobation 
by  those  as  competent  to  judge  as  the  Eockmores  of 
Germantown,  I  am  afraid,  my  dear  sir,  I  should  have 
been  compelled  to  sever  those  pleasant  relations  which 
for  so  many  months  have  held  us  together,  and  which 
I  hope  may  continue  for  years." 

"  My  good  Fetter,"  said  Mr.  Tippengray,  "  I  have  a 
pleasant  house  in  town,  which  I  hope  to  occupy  with 
my  wife  this  winter,  and  I  should  like  it  very  much 
if  you  and  Mrs.  Fetter  would  make  us  a  visit  there, 
and,  if  you  wish,  I  '11  have  some  of  the  Germantown 
Rockmores  there  to  meet  you." 

The  landlord  of  the  Squirrel  Inn  stepped  back  in 
amazement. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that  you 
know  the  Rockmores?" 

"  The  way  of  it  is  this,"  replied  the  Greek  scholar ; 
"  you  see,  my  mother  was  a  Purley,  and  on  the  ma 
ternal  side  she  belonged  to  the  Kempton-Tucker 
family,  and  you  know  that  the  head  of  that  family 
married  for  his  second  wife  a  Mrs.  Callaway,  who 
was  own  sister  to  John  Brent  Norris,  whose  daughter 
married  a  Rockmore.  So  you  see  we  are  connected." 

"  And  you  never  told  me ! "  solemnly  exclaimed  Mr. 
Fetter. 

"No,"  said  his  companion;  "there  are  pleasures 


212  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

of  revelation,  which  are  enhanced  by  a  delay  in  reali 
zation,  and  besides  I  did  not  wish  to  place  myself  in  a 
position  which  might,  perchance,  subordinate  some 
of  your  other  guests." 

"  I  must  admit  that  I  am  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Fetter ; 
"  but  your  action  in  the  matter  proves  your  blood." 

And  now,  Mrs.  Cristie  having  finished  her  very 
earnest  conversation  with  Ida,  the  newly  betrothed 
pair  walked  together  towards  the  bluff  from  which 
there  was  such  a  beautiful  view  of  the  valley  below. 


XXVI 


ANOTHER   SQUIRREL  IN  THE  TAP-ROOM 


F  I  had  known/'  said  Lanigan  Beam, 
as  late  that  night  he  sat  smoking 
with  Walter  Lodloe  in  the  top  room 
of  the  tower,  "  that  that  old  rascal 
was  capable  of  stealing  my  ladder 
in  order  to  make  love  to  my  girl,  I 
should  have  had  a  higher  respect  for  him.  Well,  I  'm 
done  for,  and  now  I  shall  lose  no  time  in  saying  good- 
by  to  the  Squirrel  Inn  and  Lethbury." 

"Why  so?"  asked  his  companion  in  surprise. 
"  Was  the  hope  of  winning  Miss  Mayberry  the  only 
thing  that  kept  you  here?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Lanigan ;  "  it  was  the  hope  that 
Calthea  might  get  old  Tippengray.  You  will  remem 
ber  I  told  you  that,  but  as  she  cannot  now  go  off  with 
him,  there  is  nobody  for  her  to  go  off  with,  and  so  I 
must  be  the  one  to  travel." 

Lodloe  laughed.  "  Under  the  circumstances  then," 
he  said,  "  you  think  you  could  n't  stay  in  this  neigh 
borhood?" 

"Not  with  Calthea  unattached,"  replied  Lanigan. 
"Oh;  no!  Quite  impossible." 

213 


214  THE  SQUIKEEL  INN. 

When  Miss  Rose  had  been  convinced  that  all  her 
plans  had  come  to  naught,  earnestly  and  with  much 
severity  and  singleness  of  purpose  she  considered  the 
situation.  It  did  not  take  her  long  to  arrive  at  the 
conclusion  that  the  proper  thing  for  her  to  do  was  to 
marry  Lanigan  Beam,  and  to  do  it  without  loss  of 
time.  Having  come  to  this  decision,  she  immediately 
began  to  make  arrangements  to  carry  it  into  effect. 

It  was  utterly  vain  and  useless  for  Lanigan  to  at 
tempt  to  get  away  from  her.  She  came  upon  him 
with  a  sweet  assurance  which  he  supposed  had  van 
ished  with  her  earlier  years ;  she  led  him  with  ribbons 
which  he  thought  had  faded  and  fallen  into  shreds 
long,  long  ago ;  she  clapped  over  his  head  a  bag  which 
he  supposed  had  been  worn  out  on  old  Tippengray ; 
and  she  secured  him  with  fetters  which  he  imagined 
had  long  since  been  dropped,  forgotten,  and  crumbled 
into  dust.  He  did  not  go  away,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  it  was  generally  understood  in  the  neighbor 
hood  that,  at  last,  he  and  Calthea  Rose  were  to  be 
married. 

Shortly  after  this  fact  had  been  made  public,  Lani 
gan  and  Walter  Lodloe,  who  had  not  seen  each  other 
for  some  days,  were  walking  together  on  the  Lethbury 
road. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  former,  "  it  is  a  little  odd,  but  then 
odd  things  are  all  the  time  happening.  I  don't  know 
whether  Calthea  has  taken  me  in  by  virtue  of  my  first 
engagement  to  her,  or  on  §ome  of  the  others.  Or  it 
may  be  that  it  is  merely  a  repeal  of  our  last  breaking 
off.  Anyway,  I  found  she  had  never  dreamed  of 
anything  but  marrying  me,  and  though  I  thought  I 


THE   SQUIRREL   INN.  215 

had  a  loose  foot,  I  found  I  had  n't,  and  there 's  an  end 
of  it.  Besides,  I  will  say  for  Calthea  that  her  feelings 
are  different  from  what  I  supposed  they  were.  She 
has  mellowed  up  a  good  deal  in  the  last  year  or  two, 
and  I  shall  try  to  make  things  as  easy  for  her  as  I  can. 

"  But  one  thing  is  certain ;  I  shall  stick  to  my 
resolution  not  to  tell  her  that  I  have  made  money, 
and  have  reformed  my  old,  loose  ways  of  living  and 
doing  business.  All  that  I  am  going  to  keep  as  a  sort 
of  saving  fund  that  I  can  draw  on  when  I  feel  like  it, 
and  let  it  alone  when  I  don't  feel  like  it.  We  are 
going  to  travel, —  she  is  wild  on  that  point, —  and  she 
expects  to  pay  the  piper.  She  can't  do  it,  but  I  shall 
let  her  think  she 's  doing  it.  She  takes  me  for  a  rat 
tling  scapegrace,  and  I  need  n't  put  on  the  sober  and 
respectable  unless  I  choose  to ;  and  when  I  do  choose 
it  will  be  a  big  card  in  my  hand.  By  George !  sir, 
I  know  Calthea  so  well  that  I  can  twist  her  around 
my  finger,  and  I  am  not  sure,  if  I  had  got  the  other 
one,  that  I  could  have  done  that.  It  's  much  more 
likely  that  I  should  have  been  the  twisted  one." 

"  What  is  Miss  Rose  going  to  do  about  her  busi 
ness?"  asked  Lodloe. 

"  Oh,  that 's  to  be  wound  up  with  a  jerk,"  answered 
his  companion.  "  I  've  settled  all  that.  She  wanted 
to  hire  somebody  to  take  charge  of  the  store  while 
we're  gone,  and  to  sell  out  the  things  on  her  old  plan ; 
but  that 's  all  tomfoolery.  I  have  engaged  a  shop 
keeper  at  Romney  to  come  out  and  buy  the  whole 
stock  at  retail  price,  and  I  gave  him  the  money  to  do 
it  with.  That 's  good  business,  you  know,  because  it 's 
the  same  as  money  coming  back  to  me,  and  as  for  the 


216  THE   SQUIBREL  INN. 

old  oddments,  and  remnants,  and  endments  of  faded 
braids  and  rotten  calicoes,  it 's  a  clear  profit  to  be  rid 
of  them.  If  the  Romney  man  sends  them  to  be  ground 
up  at  the  paper-mill,  he  may  pay  himself  for  the  cart 
age  and  his  time.  So  the  shop  will  be  shut  day  after 
to-morrow,  and  you  can  see  for  yourself  that  my  style 
of  business  is  going  to  be  of  the  stern,  practical  sort ; 
and,  after  all,  I  don't  see  any  better  outlook  for  a 
fellow  than  to  live  a  married  life  in  which  very  little 
is  expected  of  him,  while  he  knows  that  he  has  on  tap  a 
good  bank-account  and  a  first-class  moral  character." 

The  autumn  was  a  very  pleasant  one,  and  as  there 
was  no  reason  for  doing  anything  else,  the  guests  at 
the  Squirrel  Inn  remained  until  late  in  the  season. 
Therefore  it  was  that  Miss  Calthea  was  enabled  to 
marry  and  start  off  on  her  wedding  tour  before  the 
engaged  couples  at  the  inn  had  returned  to  the  city, 
or  had  even  fixed  the  dates  for  their  weddings.  Cal 
thea  was  not  a  woman  who  would  allow  herself  to  be 
left  behind  in  matters  of  this  nature.  From  her  gen 
eral  loftiness  and  serenity  of  manner,  and  the  perfect 
ease  and  satisfaction  with  which  she  talked  of  her 
plans  and  prospects  with  her  friends  and  acquain 
tances,  no  one  could  have  imagined  that  she  had  ever 
departed  from  her  original  intention  of  becoming  Mrs. 
Lanigan  Beam 

In  the  midst  of  her  happiness  she  could  not  help 
feeling  a  little  sorry  for  Ida  Mayberry,  and  this  she 
did  not  hesitate  to  say  to  some  persons  with  whom 
she  was  intimate,  including  Mrs.  Fetter.  To  be  sure, 
she  had  been  informed  as  to  the  year  of  Mr.  Tippen- 
gray's  birth,  which,  if  correct,  would  make  him  forty- 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  217 

six ;  but  it  was  her  private  opinion  that  sixty  would 
be  a  good  deal  nearer  the  mark.  However,  if  the 
young  child's  nurse  should  become  an  early  widow, 
and  be  thrown  upon  her  own  resources,  she,  for  one, 
would  not  withhold  a  helping  hand.  But  she  ear 
nestly  insisted  that  not  a  word  she  said  on  this  sub 
ject  should  ever  be  breathed  into  another  ear. 

When  Ida  Mayberry  heard  what  Calthea  had  said 
about  her  and  Mr.  Tippengray's  age,  she  was  very 
angry,  and  declared  she  would  not  go  to  the  old 
thing's  wedding,  which  was  to  take  place  the  next 
day  in  the  Lethbury  church.  But,  after  thinking  over 
the  matter,  she  changed  her  mind,  and  concluded  that 
at  times  like  this  we  should  all  be  pleasant  and  good- 
natured  towards  one  another;  so  she  sat  down  and 
wrote  a  letter  to  Miss  Calthea,  which  she  sent  to  the 
expectant  bride  that  very  afternoon.  The  missive 
ran  thus : 

MY  DEAR  Miss  ROSE  :  I  have  seen  so  little  of  Mr.  Beam  in 
the  last  few  days  that  I  have  had  no  opportunity  to  express  to 
him  some  thanks  which  are  due  him  from  Mr.  Tippengray  and 
myself.  I  am  therefore  obliged  to  ask  you,  my  dear  Miss  Rose, 
to  give  to  him  a  message  from  me,  which,  as  it  is  one  of  grati 
tude,  you  will  be  pleased  to  deliver. 

Not  long  ago,  when  Mr.  Beam  took  occasion  to  tell  me  that  he 
loved  me  and  asked  me  to  marry  him, —  I  remember  now  that  it 
was  on  the  very  day  that  Mr.  Fetter's  horse  behaved  so  badly 
and,  unfortunately  for  you,  tipped  you  out  of  the  tail  end  of  the 
little  cart,  and  made  it  necessary  for  you  to  give  up  both  it  and 
Mr.  Tippengray  to  me, — he  (Mr.  Beam)  was  so  good  as  to  say 
that  if  I  would  agree  to  be  his  wife  and  still  wished  the  instruc 
tive  companionship  of  Mr.  Tippengray,  he  would  take  that  gen 
tleman  into  his  family  as  a  tutor.  Now  this,  as  you  will  readily 
acknowledge,  my  dear  Miss  Rose,  was  very  good  in  Mr.  Beam, 
and  in  return  I  wish  you  to  say  to  him,  both  from  Mr.  Tippen- 


218  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

gray  and  from  me,  that  if  there  should  ever  be  any  position  in 
our  gift  which  he  is  capable  of  filling,  all  he  has  to  do  is  to  ask 
for  it.  Most  sincerely  yours, 

IDA  MAYBERRY. 

And  the  next  day  in  church  no  face  expressed  a 
more  delighted  interest  in  the  nuptial  ceremonies  than 
that  of  the  pretty  Miss  Mayberry. 

It  was  late  in  November,  and  the  weather  was  get 
ting  decidedly  cool.  There  was  a  fire  in  the  tap-room 
of  the  Squirrel  Inn,  and  also  one  in  the  little  parlor, 
and  by  this,  after  supper,  sat  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fetter. 

The  guests  were  all  gone;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tippen- 
gray,  who  had  had  a  quiet  wedding  in  New  York, 
were  on  their  way  to  Cambridge,  England,  where  the 
bride  would  spend  a  portion  of  the  honeymoon  in  the 
higher  studies  there  open  to  women,  while  Mrs.  Cristie 
and  Mr.  Lodloe  were  passing  happy  days  in  the  me 
tropolis  preparing  for  their  mariiage  early  in  the  new 
year.  The  Beams  were  in  Florida,  where,  so  Lanigan 
wrote,  they  had  an  idea  of  buying  an  orange  grove, 
and  where,  so  Calthea  wrote,  she  would  not  live  if 
they  gave  her  a  whole  county. 

The  familiar  faces  all  being  absent,  and  very  few 
people  dropping  in  from  Lethbury  or  the  surrounding 
neighborhood,  the  Squirrel  Inn  was  lonely,  and  the 
hostess  thereof  did  not  hesitate  to  say  so.  As  for  the 
host,  he  had  his  books,  his  plans,  and  his  hopes.  He 
also  had  his  regrets,  which  were  useful  in  helping  him 
to  pass  his  time. 

"  What  in  the  world,"  asked  Mrs.  Fetter,  regarding 
an  object  in  her  husband's  hands,  "  made  you  take 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  219 

down  that  miserable,  dilapidated  little  squirrel  from 
the  sign-post  ?  You  might  as  well  have  let  him  stay 
there  all  winter,  and  put  up  a  new  one  in  the  spring." 

"This  has  been  a  most  memorable  year,"  replied 
her  husband,  "  and  I  wish  to  place  this  squirrel  in  his 
proper  position  on  the  calendar  shelf  of  the  tap-room 
before  the  storms  and  winds  of  winter  have  blown  the 
fur  from  his  body  and  every  hair  from  his  upturned 
tail.  I  have  killed  and  prepared  a  fresh  squirrel,  and 
I  will  place  him  on  the  sign-post  in  a  few  days." 

"  If  you  would  let  that  one  stay  until  he  was  a  skin 
skeleton,  he  would  have  given  people  a  better  idea  of 
the  way  this  year  has  turned  out  than  he  does  now," 
said  Mrs.  Fetter. 

"  How  so?"  he  asked,  looking  at  her  in  surprise. 

"Don't  we  sit  here  stripped  of  every  friendly 
voice  ? "  she  said.  "  Of  course,  it 's  always  more  lone 
some  in  the  winter,  but  it 's  never  been  so  bad  as 
this,  for  we  have  n't  even  Calthea  to  fall  back  on. 
Things  did  n't  turn  out  as  I  expected  them  to,  and  I 
suppose  they  never  will,  but  it  always  was  my  opinion, 
and  is  yet,  that  nothing  can  go  straight  in  such  a 
crooked  house.  This  very  afternoon,  as  I  was  com 
ing  from  the  poultry-yard,  and  saw  Lanigan's  ladder 
still  standing  up  against  the  window  of  his  room,  I 
could  n't  help  thinking  that  if  a  burglar  got  into  that 
room,  he  might  suppose  he  was  in  the  house;  but 
he  'd  soon  find  himself  greatly  mistaken,  and  even 
if  he  went  over  the  roof  to  Mr.  Lodloe's  room,  all  he 
could  do  would  be  to  come  down  the  tower  stairs,  and 
then  he  would  find  himself  outside,  just  where  he 
started  from." 


220  THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 

"That  would  suit  me  very  well,"  remarked  Mr. 
Fetter. 

"  If  this  house  had  been  built  in  a  plain,  straight 
forward  way,"  his  wife  continued,  "  with  a  hall  through 
the  middle  of  it,  and  the  rooms  alike  on  both  sides, 
then  things  might  have  happened  in  a  straightfor 
ward  way,  and  not  all  mixed  up,  as  they  were  here 
this  summer.  Nobody  could  tell  who  was  going  to 
marry  who,  and  why  they  should  do  it,  if  they  ever 
did." 

Mr.  Fetter  arose  and,  still  holding  the  stuffed  squir 
rel  in  his  hand,  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire. 

"  It  strikes  me,  Susan."  said  he,  looking  reflectively 
in  front  of  him,  "  that  our  lives  are  very  seldom  built 
with  a  hall  through  the  middle  and  the  rooms  alike 
on  both  sides.  I  don't  think  we  'd  like  it  if  they  were. 
They  would  be  stupid  and  humdrum.  The  right  sort 
of  a  life  should  have  its  ups  and  downs,  its  ins  and 
outs,  its  different  levels,  its  outside  stairs  and  its  in 
side  stairs,  its  balconies,  windows  and  roofs  of  differ 
ent  periods  and  different  styles.  This  is  education. 
These  things  are  the  advantages  that  our  lives  get 
from  the  lives  of  others. 

"  Now,  for  myself,  I  like  the  place  I  live  in  to  re 
semble  my  life  and  that  of  the  people  about  me.  And 
I  am  sure  that  nothing  could  be  better  suited  to  all 
that  than  the  Squirrel  Inn. 

"All  sorts  of  things  come  into  our  lives,  and  when  a 
thing  like  Lanigan  Beam  comes  into  it,  what  could 
be  better  than  to  lodge  it  in  a  place  where  it  can  go 
no  farther  ?  and  if  something  of  a  high  order,  some 
thing  backed  up  by  Matthew  Vassar,  but  which  is  a 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN.  221 

little  foreign,  and  not  altogether  of  our  kind,  how 
well  to  be  able  to  put  that  in  a  noble  and  elevated 
position,  where  it  can  have  every  advantage  and  can 
go  and  come,  without  being  naturalized  or  made  a 
part  of  us.  Think,  too,  how  high  excellence  can  be 
worthily  lodged,  with  the  comforts  of  the  North  and 
the  beauties  of  the  South,  as  in  the  case  of  Mrs.  Cris- 
tie's  rooms;  and  how  blooded  service  is  not  forced  into 
a  garret,  but  is  quartered  in  a  manner  which  shows 
that  the  blood  is  recognized  and  the  service  ignored." 

"  If  I  had  known  what  she  was  when  she  came," 
remarked  Mrs.  Fetter,  "  I  should  have  put  her  on  the 
top  floor." 

"  Think,  too,"  continued  the  landlord,  "  of  noble 
sentiments,  high  aspirations,  and  deep  learning, 
lodged  of  their  own  free  will — for  it  appears  that  there 
was  no  necessity  for  it  —  so  near  as  to  answer  every 
need  of  social  domesticity,  and  yet  in  a  manner  so  free 
and  apart  as  to  allow  undisturbed  and  undisturbing 
reveries  beneath  the  stars,  and  such  other  irregular 
manifestations  of  genius  as  are  common  to  the  gifted." 

"Such  as  coming  late  to  meals,"  interpolated  the 
lady. 

"  Think,  too,"  Mr.  Fetter  went  on  to  say,  speaking 
in  a  more  earnest  voice — "think,  too,  of  a  life  or  a 
house  in  which  there  is  no  place  for  a  Calthea  Rose ; 
in  which  she  cannot  exist,  and  which,  I  am  happy  to 
say,  she  has  always  opposed  and  condemned." 

Mrs.  Fetter  slightly  yawned. 

"  All  that  sounds  very  well,"  she  said,  "  and  there 
may  be  truth  in  it ;  but,  after  all,  here  we  are  alone  by 
ourselves,  and,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  no  chance  of  being 


222 


THE  SQUIRREL  INN. 


less  lonely  next  season,  for  your  rules  keep  out  all 
common  folks,  and  we  can't  count  on  the  people  who 
were  here  this  year  coming  again." 

Mr.  Fetter  smiled.  "  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose," 
he  said,  "  that  next  season  we  shall  not  be  favored 
with  the  company  of  the  Rockmores  of  Germantown." 

And  with  that  he  walked  away  to  place  in  its  pro 
per  position  on  the  shelf  in  the  tap-room  the  squirrel 
of  the  past  season. 


MAR  0  7  1978 


DATE  DUE 


PRINTED  IN  U    S 


ii  iii  111  iniii  in  inn  mi  i1 
3  1970  00260  2552 


JC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000269776 


